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PRECAUTION, 


A  NOVEL. 


By    J.    FENIMORE    COOPER. 


•  Be  •wise  to-dav.  't  is  madness  to  defer ; 
To-morrow's  caution  may  arrire  too  late." 


OOMPLETE  IN  ONE  VOLOMit 


NKW  EDITION. 


NEW   YORK: 
PUBLISHED   BY   HURD   AND   HOUGHTON. 

1870. 


PKECAUTION. 


Entered,  Mcordlng  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1853, 

Bt  STUINGEK  &  TOWNSENii. 

In  the  Clerk's  Offloe  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  St&tce  for  the 

Southeru  District  of  New  York. 


W    C.   BRYANT'S   DISCOURSE 

ON  THB 

LIFE,    GENIUS,    AND    WKITINGS 

OF 

JAMES   FENIMORE   COOPER, 

PELIYERED  AT  METROPOLITAN  HAIL,  N.  Y.,  PEBRUARY  25,  1852. 


It  is  now  somewhat  more  than  a  year,  since  the  friends  of  James 
Fenimore  Cooper,  in  this  city,  were  planning  tc?  give  a  public 
dinner  to  his  honor.  It  was  intended  as  an  expression  both  ol 
the  regard  they  bore  him  personally,  and  of  the  pride  they  took  in 
the  glory  his  writings  had  reflected  on  the  American  name.  We 
thought  of  what  we  should  say  in  his  hearing;  in  what  terms, 
worthy  of  him  and  of  us,  we  should  speak  of  the  esteem  in  which 
we  held  him,  and  of  the  interest  we  felt  in  a  fame  which  had 
already  penetrated  tp  the  remotest  nook  of  the  earth  inhabited  by 
cinlized  man. 

To^ay  we  assemble  for  a  sadder  purpose :  to  pay  to  the  dead 

some  part  of  the  honors  then  intended  for  the  living.    We  bring 

our  offering,  but  he  is  not  here  who  should  receive  it ;  in  his  stead 

are  vacancy  and  silence;  there  is  no  eye  to  brighten  at  our  words, 

and  no  voice  to  answer.     "  It  is  an  empty  office  that  we  perform," 

said  Virgil,  in  his  melodious  verses,  when  commemorating  the 

virtues  of  the  young  Marcellus,  and  bidding  flowers  be  strewn, 

with   full   hands,   over   his   early   grave.     We   might  apply  the 

expression  to  the  present  occasion,  but  it  would  be  true  in  part 

ly.     We  can  no  longer  do  anything  for  him  who  is  departed, 

^Sbut  we  may  do  what  will  not  be  without  fruit  to  those  who 

"^fe  remain.     It  is  good  to  occupy  our  thoughts  with  the  example  of 

\    great  talents  in  conjunction  with  great  virtues.     His  genius  has 

^j  passed  away  ^\ith  him  ;  but  we  may  learn,  from  the  history  uf  his 

^ .    life,  to  employ  the  faculties  we  possess  with  useful  activity  and 

-J      noble  aims  ;  we  may  copy  his  magnanimous  frankness,  his  disdain 


6  LIFE,    GITNIUS,    AND    WRITINGS 

of  everytliing  that  wears  the  faintest  semblance  of  deceit,  his 
refusal  to  comply  with  current  abuses,  and  the  courage  with 
which,  on  all  occasions,  he  asserted  what  he  deemed  truth,  and 
combated  what  he  thought  error. 

The  circumstances  of  Cooper's  early  life  were  remarkably 
suited  to  confirm  the  natural  hardihood  and  manliness  of  his 
character,  and  to  call  forth  and  exercise  that  extraordinary  power 
of  observation,  which  accumulated  the  materials  afterwards 
wielded  and  shaped  by  his  genius.  His  father,  while  an  inhabitant 
of  Burlington,  in  New  Jersey,  on  the  pleasant  b:ml*s  of  the 
Delaware,  was  the  owner  of  large  possessions  on  the  borders  ot 
the  Otsego  Lake  in  our  own  state,  and  here,  in  the  newly-cleared 
fields,  he  built,  in  1786,  the  first  house  in  Cooperstown.  To  this 
home.  Cooper,  who  was  born  in  Burlington,  in  the  year  1789,  was 
conveyed  in  his  infancy,  and  here,  as  he  informs  us  in  his  preface 
to  the  Pioneers,  his  first  impressions  of  the  external  world  were 
obtained.  Here  he  passed  his  childhood,  with  the  vast  forest 
around  him,  stretching  up  the  mountains  that  overlook  the  lake, 
and  far  beyond,  in  a  region  where  the  Indian  yet  roamed,  and  the 
white  hunter,  half  Indian  in  his  dress  and  mode  of  life,  sought  his 
game, — a  region  in  which  the  bear  and  the  wolf  were  yet  hunted, 
and  the  panther,  more  formidable  than  either,  lurked  in  the 
thickets,  and  tales  of  wanderings  in  the  wilderness,  and  encounters 
with  these  fierce  animals,  beguiled  the  lengtii  of  the  wh.ter  nights. 
Of  this  place.  Cooper,  although  early  removed  from  it  to  pursue 
his  studies,  was  an  occasional  resident  throughout  his  life,  and 
here  his  last  years  were  wholly  passed. 

At  the  age  of  thirteen  he  was  sent  to  Yale  College,  where,  not- 
withstanding his  extreme  youth, — for,  with  the  exception  of  the 
poet  Hillhouse,  he  was  the  youngest  of  his  class,  and  Hillhouse 
was  afterwards  withdrawn, — his  progress  in  his  studies  is  said  to 
have  been  honorable  to  his  talents.  He  left  the  college,  after  a 
residence  of  three  years,  and  became  a  midshipman  in  the  United 
States  navy.  Six  years  he  followed  the  sea,  and  there  yet 
-'•anders,  among  those  who  are  fond  of  Uterary  anecdote,  a  story 
of  the  young  sailor  who,  in  the  streets  if  one  of  the  English 
ports,  attracted  the  curiosity  of  the  crowd  by  explaining  to  his 
companions  a  Latin  motto  in  some  public  p^ce.  That  during 
this  period  he  made  himself  master  of  the  krowledge  and  the 
imagery  which  he  afterwards  employed  to  so  much  advantage  in 
his  romances  of  the  sea,  ine  finest  ever  written,  is  a  common  and 
obvious  remark;  but  it  has  not  been,  so  far  as  1  kaow,  observed 
that  from  the  discipline  of  a  seaman's  life  he  may  have  derived 
much  of  his  readiness  and  fertility  of  invention,  much  >f  his  skill 
in  surrounding  the  personages  of  his  novels  with  imaginary  perils, 
and  rescuing  them  by  probable  expedients.     Of  all  pursuits,  th« 


OF*  J.    FEXIMORE    CUOPER.  J 

life  of  a  sailor  is  that  wliich  familiarizes  men  to  danger  in  ita 
most  fearful  shapes,  most  cultivates  presence  of  mind,  and  most 
effectually  calls  forth  the  resources  of  a  prompt  and  fearless  dex- 
terity by  which  imminent  evil  is  avoided. 

In  1811,  Cooper,  having  resigned  his  post  as  midshipman,  began 
the  year  by  marrying  Miss  Dehmcy,  sister  of  the  present  bishop 
of  the  diocese  of  Western  New  York,  and  entered  upon  a  domestic 
life  happily  passed  to  its  close.  He  went  to  live  at  Mamaroneck,  in 
the  county  of  Westchester,  and  while  here  he  wrote  and  publisiied 
the  first  of  his  novels,  entitled  Precaution.  Concerning  the 
occasion  of  writing  this  work,  it  is  related,  that  once,  as  lie  was 
reading  an  English  novel  to  Mrs.  Cooper,  who  has,  within  a  short 
time  past,  been  laid  in  the  grave  beside  her  illustrious  husband, 
and  of  whom  we  may  now  say,  that  her  goodness  was  no  les3 
eminent  than  his  genius,  he  suddenly  laid  down  the  book,  and 
said,  "  I  believe  I  couJd  write  a  better  myself."  Almost  imme- 
diately he  composed  a  chapter  of  a  projected  work  of  fiction,  and 
read  it  to  the  same  friendly  judge,  who  encouraged  him  to  finish 
it,  and  when  it  was  completed,  suggested  its  publication.  Of  this 
he  had  at  the  time  no  intention,  but  he  was  at  length  induced  to 
submit  the  manuscript  to  the  examination  of  the  late  Charles 
Wiikes,  of  this  city,  in  v;hose  literary  opinions  he  had  great  con- 
fidence. Mr.  Wilkes  advised  that  it  should  be  published,  and  to 
these  circumstances  we  owe  it  that  Cooper  became  an  author. 

I  confess  I  have  merely  dipped  into  this  work.  The  experiment 
was  made  with  the  first  ediiion,  deformed  by  a  strange  punctua- 
tion^a  profusion  of  commas,  and  other  pauses,  which  puzzled 
and  repelled  me.  Its  author,  many  years  afterwards,  revised  and 
republished  it,  correcting  this  fault,  and  some  faults  of  style  also, 
so  that  to  a  casual  inspection  it  appeared  almost  another  work. 
It  was  a  professed^delineation  of  English  manners,  though  the 
author  had  then  seen  nothing  of  English  society.  It  had,  however, 
the  honor  of  being  adopted  by  the  country  whose  manners  it 
described,  and,  being  early  republished  in  Great  Britain,  passed 
from  the  first  for  an  English  novel.  I  am  not  unwilling  to  believe 
what  is  said  of  it,  that  it  contained  a  promise  of  the  powers  which 
its  author  afterwards  put  forth. 

Thirty  years  ago,  in  the  year  1821,  and  in  the  thirty-second  Oi 
his  life.  Cooper  published  the  first  of  the  works  by  which  he  will 
be  known  to  posterity,  the  Spy,  It  took  the  reading  world  by  a 
kind  of  surprise;  its  merit  was  acknowledged  by  a  rapid  sale  ;  the 
public  read  with  eagerness  and  the  critics  w'ondered.  Many  with- 
held their  commendations  on  account  of  defects  in  the  plot  oi 
blemishes  in  the  composition,  arising  from  want  of  pn;ctice,  and 
some  waited  till  they  could  hear  the  judgment  of  European 
readers.     Yet  there  were  not  wanting  critics  in  thia  country,  oi 


8  LIFE,    GENIUS,    AND    WRITINGS 

whose  good  opinion  any  author  in  any  part  of  the  world  might  be 
proud,  who  spoke  of  it  in  terms  it  deserved.  "  Are  you  not 
delighted,"  wrote  a  literary  friend  to  me,  who  has  since  risen  to 
high  distinction  as  a  writer,  both  in  verse  and  in  prose,  "  are  you 
not  delighted  with  the  Spy^  as  a  work  of  infinite  spirit  and 
genius?"  In  that  word  genius  lay  the  explanation  of  the  hold 
which  the  work  had  taken  on  tne  minds  of  men.  What  it  had  of 
excellence  was  peculiar  and  unborrowed ;  its  pictures  of  life, 
whether  in  repose  or  activity,  were  drawn,  with  broad  lights  and 
shadows,  immediately  from  living  originals  in  nature  or  in  his  own 
imagination.  To  him,  whatever  he  described  was  true ;  it  was 
made  a  reality  to  him  by  the  strength  with  wliich  he  conceived  it. 
His  power  in  the  delineation  of  character  was  shown  in  the  princi- 
pal personage  of  his  story,  Harvey  Birch,  on  whom,  though  he  has 
chosen  to  employ  him  in  the  ignoble  office  of  a  spy,  and  endowed 
him  with  the  qualities  necessary  to  his  profession, — extreme  cir- 
cumspection, fertility  in  stratagem,  and  the  art  of  concealing  his 
real  character — qualities  which,  in  conjunction  with  selfishness  and 
greediness,  make  the  scoundrel,  he  has  bestowed  the  virtues  of 
generosity,  magnanimity,  an  intense  love  of  country,  a  fidelity  not 
to  be  corrupted,  and  a  disinterestedness  beyond  temptation.  Out 
of  this  combination  of  qualities  he  has  wrought  a  character 
which  is  a  favorite  in  all  nations,  and  with  all  classes  of  man- 
kind. 

It  is  said  that  if  you  cast  a  pebble  into  the  ocean,  at  the  mouth 
of  our  harbor,  the  vibration  made  in  the  water  passes  gradually 
on  till  it  strikes  the  icy  barriers  of  the  deep  at  the  south  pole. 
The  spread  of  Cooper's  reputation  is  not  confined  within  narrower 
limits.  The  Spy  is  read  in  all  the  written  dialects  of  Europe,  and 
in  some  of  those  of  Asia.  Tiie  French,  immediately  after  its 
first  appearance,  gave  it  to  the  multitudes  ,who  read  their  far- 
diffused  language,  and  placed  it  among  the  first  works  of  its  class. 
It  was  rendered  into  Castilian,  and  passed  into  the  hands  of  those 
who  dwell  under  the  beams  of  the  Southern  Cross.  At  length  it 
passed  the  eastern  frontier  of  Europe,  and  the  latest  record  I  have 
seen  of  its  progress  towards  absolute  universality,  is  contained  in 
a  statement  of  the  International  Magazine,  derived,  I  presume, 
from  its  author,  that  in  1847  it  was  published  in  a  Persian  trans- 
lation at  Ispahan.  Before  this  time,  I  doubt  not,  they  are  reading 
t  in  some  of  the  languages  of  Hindostan,  and,  if  the  Chinese  evei 
translated  anything,  it  would  be  in  the  hands  of  the  many  millions 
who  inhabit  the  far  Cathay. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  hesitation  which  American  critics  felt  in 
admitting  the  merits  of  the  Spy,  on  account  of  crudities  in  the 
plot  or  the  composition,  some  of  which,  no  doubt,  really  existed. 
An  exception  must  be  made  in  favor  of  the  Port  Folio^  whick, 


OF    J.    FENIMORE    COOPER.  9 

In  a  notice  A^aitten  by  Mrs.  Sarah  Hall,  mother  of  the  editor  of 
that  periodical,  and  author  of  Conversations  onlhe  Bible,  gave  the 
^ork  a  cordial  welcome ;  and' Cooper,  as  I  am  informed,  never  for- 
got this  act  of  timely  and  ready  kindness. 

It  was  perhaps  favorable  to  the  immediate  success  of  the  Spy^ 
that  Cooper  had  few  American  authors  to  divide  with  him  the 
public  attention.  That  crowd  of  clever  men  and  women  who  now 
write  for-  the  magazines,  who  send  out  volumes  of  essays, 
sketches,  and  poems,  and  who  supply  the  press  with  novels,  bio- 
graphies, and  historical  works,  were  then,  for  the  most  part,  either 
stammering  their  lessons  in  the  schools,  or  yet  unborn.  Yet  it  is 
worthy  of  note,  that  just  about  the  time  that  the  Spy  made  its 
appearance,  the  dawn  of  what  we  now  call  our  literature  was  just 
breaking.  The  concluding  number  of  Dana's  Idle  Man,  a  w^ork 
neglected  at  first,  but  now  numbered  among  the  best  things  of  the 
kind  in  our  language,  was  issued  in  the  same  month.  The  Sketch 
Book  was  then  just  completed;  the  world  was  admiring  it,  and  its 
author  was  meditating  Bracebridge  Hall.  Miss  Sedgwick,  about 
the  same  time,  made  her  first  essay  in  that  charming  series  of  no- 
vels of  domestic  life  in  New  England,  which  have  gained  her  so 
high  a  reputation.  Percival,now  unhappily  silent,  had  just  put  to 
press  a  volume  of  poems.  I  have  a  copy  of  an  edition  of  Hal- 
leek's  Fanny,  published  in  the  same  year ;  the  poem  of  Yamoyden, 
by  Eastburn  and  Sands,  appeared  almost  simultaneously  with 
it.  Livingston  was  putting  the  finishing  hand  to  his  Report  on 
the  Penal  Code  of  Louisiana,  a  work  written  with  such  grave, 
persuasive  eloquence,  that  it  belongs  as  much  to  our  literature 
as  to  our  jurisprudence.  Other  contemporaneous  American 
works  there  were,  now  less  read.  Paul  Allen's  poem  of 
Moah  was  just  laid  on  the  counters  of  the  booksellers.  Arden 
published,  at  the  same  time,  in  this  city,  a  translation  of  Ovid's 
Tristia,  in  heroic  verse,  in  which  the  complaints  of  the  etfeminate 
Roman  poet  were  rendered  with  great  fidelity  to  the  original,  and 
sometimes  not  without  beauty.  If  I  may  speak  of  myself,  it  was 
in  that  year  that  I  timidly  intrusted  to  the  winds  and  waves  of 
public  opinion  a  small  cargo  of  my  own — a  poem  entitled  Th^ 
Ages,  and  half  a  dozen  shorter  ones,  in  a  thin  duodecimo  volume, 
printed  at  Cambridge. 

We  had,  at  the  same  time,  works  of  elegant  literature,  fresh 
from  the  press  of  Great  Britain,  which  are  still  read  and  admired. 
Barry  Cornwall,  then  a  young  suitor  for  fame,  published  in  the 
same  year  his  Marcia  Colonna ;  Byron,  in  the  full  strength  and 
fertility  of  his  genius,  gave  the  readers  of  Enghsh  his  tragedy  of 
Marino  Faliero,  and  was  in  the  midst  of  his  spirited  controversy 
with  Bowles  concerning  the  poetry  of  Pope.  The  Spy  had  to 
sustain  a  comparison  with   Scott's  Antiquary,  published  simulta- 


10  LIFE,    GENIUS,    AKD    WRITINOfl 

neously  with  it,  and  with  Lockhart's  Valerius,  which  socnia 
to  me  one  of  the  most  remarkable  works  of  fiction  ever  com- 
posed 

In  1823,  and  in  his  thirty-fourth  year,  Cooper  brought  out  his 
novel  of  the  Pioneers,  the  scene  of  which  was  laid  on  the  borders 
of  his  own  beautiful  lake.  In  a  recent  survey  of  Mr.  Cooper's 
works,  by  one  of  his  admirers,  it  is  intimated  that  the  reputation 
of  this  work  may  have  been  in  some  degree  fictitious.  I  cnnnot 
think  so ;  I  cannot  see  how  such  a  work  could  fail  of  becoming, 
sooner  or  later,  a  favorite.  It  was  several  years  after  its  first  np- 
pearance  that  I  read  the  Pioneers,  and  I  read  it  with  a  delighted 
astonishment.  Here,  said  I  to  myself,  is  the  poet  of  rural  life  in 
this  country — our  Hesiod,  our  Theocritus,  except  that  he  writes 
without  the  restraint  of  numbers,  and  is  a  greater  poet  than  they. 
In  the  Pioneers,  as  in  a  moving  picture,  are  made  to  pass  before 
us  the  hardy  occupations  and  spirited  amusements  of  a  prosperous 
settlement,  in  a  fertile  region,  encompassed  for  leagues  around 
with  the  primeval  wilderness  of  woods.  The  seasons  in  their 
different  aspects,  bringing  with  them  their  different  employments ; 
forests  falling  before  the  axe  ;  the  cheerful  population,  with  the 
first  mild  day  of  spring,  engaged  in  the  sugar  orchards  ;  the  chase 
of  the  deer  through  the  deep  woods,  and  into  the  lake ;  turkey- 
shooting,  during  the  Christmas  holidays,  in  which  the  Indian 
marksman  vied  for  the  prize  of  skill  with  the  white  man  ;  swift 
s'eigh  rides  under  the  bright  winter  sun,  and  perilous  encounters 
with  wild  animals  in  the  forests ;  these,  and  other  scenes  of  rural 
life,  drawn,  as  Cooper  knew  how  to  draw  them,  in  the  bright  and 
healthful  coloring  of  which  he  was  master,- are  interwoven  with 
a  regular  narrative  of  human  fortunes,  not  unskilfully  constructed; 
and  how  could  such  a  work  be  otherwise  than  popular  ? 

In  the  Pioneers,  Leatherstocking  is  first  introduced — a  philoso- 
pher of  the  woods,  ignorant  of  boo'ks,  but  instructed  in  all  that 
nature,  without  the  aid  of  science,  could  reveal  to  the  man  of 
quick  senses  and  inquiring  intellect,  whose  life  has  been  passed 
under  the  open  sky,  and  in  companionship  with  a  race  whose  ani- 
mal perceptions  are  the  acutest  and  most  cultivated  of  which 
there  is  any  example.  But  Leatherstocking  has  higher  qualities; 
in  him  there  is  a  genial  blending  of  the  gentlest  virtues  of  the 
civilized  man  with  the  better  nature  of  the  aboriginal  tribes;  all 
that  in  tJiem  is  noble,  generous,  and  ideal,  is  adopted  into  his  own 
Icindly  character,  and  all  that  i#  evil  is  rejected.  But  why  should 
I  attempt  to  analyse  a  character  so  familiar?  Leatlierstocking  is 
acknowledged,  on  all  hands,  to  be  one  of  the  noblest,  as  well  aa 
most  striking  and  original  creations  of  fiction.  In  some  of  hia 
subsequent  novels.  Cooper — for  he  had  not  yet  attained  to  the  full 
maturity  of  his  powers-— heightened  and  ennobled  his  first  ccncep- 


OF    J.    FEMIMOK-E    COOPER.  11 

tion   of  the  character,  but  in  the  Pioneers  it  dazzled  the  world 
witli  the  splendor  of  novelty. 

His  next  work  was  the  Filol,  in  which  he  showed  how,  from  the 
vicissitudes  of  a  life  at  sea,  its  perils  and  escapes,  from  the  b<.'auty 
and  terrors  of  the  graiU  doep,  from  the  working  of  a  vessel  on  a 
long  voyage,  and  from  the  frank,  brave,  and  generous,  but  pecu 
liar  character  of  the  seaman,  may  be  drawn  materials  of  romance 
by  which  the  minds  of  men  may  be  as  deeply  moved  as  by  any- 
thing in  the  power  of  romance  to  present.  In  this  walk.  Cooper 
lias  had  many  disciples,  but  no  rival.  All  who  have  since  written 
T  )mances  of  the  sea  have  been  but  travellers  in  a  country  of  which 
ne  was  the  great  discoverer;  and  none  of  them  all  seemed  to  have 
loved  a  ship  as  Cooper  loved  it,  or  have  been  able  so  strongly  to 
interest  all  classes  of  readers  in  its  fortunes.  Among  other  per- 
sonages drawn  with  great  strength  in  the  Pilot,  is  the  general  f  i- 
vorite,  Tom  Coffin,  the  thorough  seaman,  with  all  the  virtues 
and  one  or  two  of  the  infirmities  of  his  profession,  superstitious, 
as  seamen  are  apt  to  be,  yet  whose  superstitions  strike  us  as  but 
an  irregular  growth  of  his  devout  recognition  of  the  Power  who 
holds  the  ocean  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand ;  true-hearted,  gentle, 
full  of  resources,  collected  in  danger,  and  at  last  calmly  perishing 
at  the  post  of  duty,  with  the  vessel  he  has  long  guided,  by  what 
I  may  call  a  great  and  magnanimous  death.  His  rougher  and 
coarser  companion,  Boltrope,  is  drawn  with  scarcely  less  skill,  and 
with  a  no  less  vigorous  hand. 

The  Pioneers  is  not  Coopers  best  tale  of  the  American  forest, 
nor  the  Pilot,  perhaps,  in  all  respects,  his  best  tale  of  the  sea ; 
yet,  if  he  had  ceased  to  write  here,  the  measure  of  his  fame  would 
possibly  have  been  scarcely  less  ample  than  it  now  is.  Neither 
of  them  is  far  below  the  best  of  his  productions,  and  in  them  ap- 
pear the  two  most  remarkable  creations  of  his  imagination — two 
of  the  most  remarkable  characters  in  all  fiction. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  my  acquaintance  with  Cooper  be- 
gan, an  acquaintance  of  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century,  in  which 
his  deportment  towards  me  was  that  of  unvaried  kindness.  He 
then  resided  a  considerable  part  of  the  year  in  this  city,  and  hero 
he  had  founded  a  weekly  club,  to  which  many  of  the  most  Jis- 
tinguished  men  of  the  place  belonged.  Of  the  mem]>ers  vvh 
have  since  passed  away,  were  Chancellor  Kent,  the  jurist;  Wiley 
the  intelligent  and  liberal  bookseller ;  Henry  D.  Sedgwick,  always 
activ'e  in  schemes  of  benevolence ;  Jarvis,  the  painter,  a  man  of  in- 
finite humor,  whose  jests  awoke  inextinguishable  laughter;  De 
Kay,  the  naturalist ;  Sands,  the  poet ;  Jacob  Harvey,  whose  genial 
memory  is  cherished  by  many  friends.  Of  those  who  are  yet 
living  was  Morse,  the  inventor  of  the  electric  telegraph  ;  Durand, 


12  LIFE,    GExN'IUS,    AND    WRllINGS 

then  one  of  the  first  of  engravers,  and  now  no  less  illustrious  as  a 
painter ;  Henry  James  Anderson,  whose  acquirements  might 
awiiken  the  envy  of  the  ripest  scholars  of  the  old  world;  Hallcck, 
tlie  poet  and  wit;  Verplanck,  who  has  given  the  v\orld  the  best 
edition  of  Shakspeare  for  general  readers ;  Dr.  King,  now  at  the 
head  of  Columbia  College,  and  his  two  immediate  predecessors  in 
that  office.  I  might  enlarge  the  list  with  many  other  names  of 
no  less  distinction.  The  army  and  navy  contributed  their  propor- 
tion of  members,  whose  names  are  on  record  in  our  national 
history.  Cooper  when  in  town  was  always  present,  and  I  re- 
member being  struck  with  the  inexhaustible  vivacity  of  his  con- 
versation and  the  minuteness  of  his  knowledge,  in  everything 
which  depended  upon  acuteness  of  observation  and  exactness  of 
recollection.  I  remember,  too,  being  sotnew  hat  startled,  coming 
as  I  did  from  the  seclusion  of  a  country  life,  wiih  a  certain  emphatic 
frankness  in  his  manner,  which,  however,  I  came  at  last  to  like 
and  to  admire.  The  club  met  in  the  hotel  called  Washington 
Hall,  the  site  of  which  is  now  occupied  by  part  of  the  ckcuit  of 
Stewart's  marble  building. 

Lionel  Lincoln,  which  cannot  be  ranked  among  the  success- 
ful productions  of  Cooper,  was  published  in  1825  ;  and  in  the  year 
following  appeared  the  Last  of  the  Mohicans,  which  more  than 
recovered  the  ground  lost  by  its  predecessor.  In  this  work,  the 
construction  of  the  narrative  has  signal  defects,  but  it  is  one  of 
the  triumphs  of  the  author's  genius  that  he  makes  us  unconscious 
of  them  while  we  read.  It  is  only  when  we  have  had  time  to 
awake  from  the  intense  interest  in  which  he  has  held  us  by  the 
vivid  reality  of  his  narrative,  and  have  begun  to  search  for  faults 
hi  cold  blood,  that  we  are  able  to  find  them.  In  the  Last  of  the 
Mohicans,  we  have  a  bolder  portraiture  of  Leatherstocking  timn 
in  ihc  Pvmeers. 

This  work  was  published  in  1826,  and  in  the  same  year  Cooper 
hailed  with  his  femily  for  Europe.  He  left  New  York  as  one  of 
the  vessels  of  war,  described  in  his  romances  of  the  sea,  goes  out 
of  port,  amidst  the  thunder  of  a  parting  salute  from  the  big  gims 
on  the  batteries.  A  dinner  was  given  him  just  before  his  de- 
parture, attended  by  most  of  the  distinguished  men  of  the  city,  at 
which  Peter  A.  Jay  presided,  and  Dr.  King  addressed  him  in  terms 
which  some  then  thought  too  glowing,  but  which  would  now 
Beem  sufficiently  temperate,  expressing  the  good  wishes  of  his 
friends,  and  dwelling  on  the  satisfaction  they  promised  themselves 
in  possessing  so  illustrious  a  representative  of  Amencan  literature 
in  the  old  world.  Cooper  was  scarcely  in  France  when  he  re- 
membered his  friends  of  the  weekly  club,  and  sent  frequent  mis- 
sives to  be  f ead  at  its  meetings ;  but  the  club  missed  its  founder 
•vent  into  a  decline,  and  not  long  afterv/ards  quietly  expired. 


OF    J.    FEXIMOKE    COOF^ER.  13 

The  first  of  Cooper's  novels  published  after  leaving  Araerica  was 
the  Prairie,  wldch  appeared  early  in  1827,  a  work  with  the  ad- 
mirers of  which  I  wholly  agree.  1  read  it  with  a  certain  awe,  an 
undefined  sense  of  sublimity,  such  as  one  experiences  on  enterinor, 
for  the  first  time,  upon  those  immense  gr;issy  deserts  Irom  wliich 
the  work  takes  its  name.  The  squatter  and  his  family — tha 
brawny  old  man  and  his  larg-e-limbed  sons,  living  in  a  sort  of  pri- 
mitive and  patriarchal  barbarism,  sluggish  on  ordinary  occasions, 
but  terrible  when  roused,  like  the  hurricane  that  sweeps  the  grand 
but  monotonous  wilderness  in  which  they  dwell — seem  a  natural 
growth  of  ancient  fields  of  the  West.  Leatherstocking,  a  hunter 
in  the  Pioneers,  a  warrior  in  the  Last  of  the  Mohicans,  and  now, 
in  his  extreme  old  age,  a  trapper  on  the  prairie,  declined  m 
strength,  but  undecayedin  intellect,  and  looking  to  the  near  close 
of  his  life,  and  a  grave  under  the  long  grass,  as  calmly  as  the 
laborer  at  sunset  looks  to  his  evening  slumber,  is  no  less  in 
harmony  with  the  silent  desert  in  which  he  wanders.  Equally  so 
are  the  Indians,  still  his  companions,  copies  of  the  American 
savage  somewhat  idealized,  but  not  the  less  a  part  of  the  wild 
nature  in  which  they  have  their  haunts. 

Before  the  year  closed,  Cooper  had  given  the  world  another 
nautical  tale,  the  Red  Rover,  which,  with  many,  is  a  greater 
favorite  than  the  Pilot,  and  with  reason,  perhaps,  if  we  consider 
principally  the  incidents,  which  are  conducted  and  described  with 
a  greater  mastery  over  the  springs  of  pity  and  terror. 

It  ha])pened  to  Cooper  while  he  was  abror.d,  as  it  not  unfre- 
quently  happens  to  our  countrymen,  to  hear  the  United  States 
disadvantageously  compared  with  Europe.  He  had  himself  been 
a  close  observer  of  things  both  here  and  in  the  old  world,  and  was 
conscious  of  being  able  to  refute  the  detractors  of  his  country  in 
regard  to  many  points.  He  published  in  1828,  after  he  had  been 
two  years  in  Europe,  a  series  of  letters,  entitled  Notions  of  the 
Americans,  by  a  Travelling  Bachelor,  in  which  he  gave  a  favor- 
able account  of  the  w'orking  of  our  institutions,  and  vindicated  his 
country  from  various  flippant  and  ill-natured  misrepresentations  of 
foreisrners.  It  is  rather  too  measured  in  style,  but  is  written  from 
a  mind  full  of  the  subject,  and  from  a  memory  wonderfully  stored 
with  particulars.  Although  twenty-four  years  have  elapsed  since 
■\t.s  publication,  but  little  of  the  vindication  has  become  obsolete. 

Cooper  loved  his  country  and  was  proud  of  her  history  and  her 
institutions,  but  it  puzzles  many  that  he  should  have  appeared,  at 
different  times,  as  her  eulogist  and  her  cei  sor.  My  friends,  she 
is  worthy  both  of  praise  and  of  blame,  and  Cooper  w-as  not  the 
man  to  shrink  from  bestowing  either,  at  what  seemed  to  him  the 
proper  time.  He  defended  her  from  detractors  abroad:  he  sought 
lo  save  her  from  flatterers  at  home.     I  will  not  say  that  he  wai 


14  LIFE,    GENIUS,    AND    WRITINGS 

in  as  good  humor  with  his  country  when  he  wrote  Home  at 
Found,  as  when  he  wrote  his  Notions  of  the  Americans,  but  this  I 
will  say  that  whether  he  commended  or  censured,  he  did  it  in  the 
sincerity  of  his  heart,  as  a  true  American,  and  in  the  belief  that 
it  would  do  good.  His  Notions  of  the  Americans  were  more 
likely  to  lessen  than  to  increase  his  popularity  in  Europe,  inas " 
much  as  they  were  put  forth  without  the  slightest  regard  to 
European  prejudices. 

In  1829,  he  brought  out  the  novel  entitled  the  Wept  of  Wish- 
ton-Wish,  one  of  the  few  of  his  works  which  we  now  rarely  he«r 
mentioned.  '  He  was  engaged  in  the  composition  of  a  third  nau- 
tical t:iie,  which  he  afterwards  published  under  the  name  of  the 
Water-  Witch,  when  the  memorable  revolution  of  the  Three  Days 
of  July  broke  out.  He  saw  a  government,  ruling  by  fear  and  in 
defiance  of  public  opinion,  overthrown  in  a  few  hours,  with  little 
bloodshed;  he  saw  the  French  nation,  far  from  being  intoxicated 
with  their  new  liberty,  peacefully  addressing  themselves  to  the 
discussion  of  the  institutions  under  which  they  were  to  live.  A 
work  which  Cooper  afterwards  published,  his  Residence  in  Europe, 
gives  the  outline  of  a  plan  of  government  for  France  furnished 
by  him  at  that  time  to  La  Fayette,  with  whom  he  was  -in  habits 
of  close  and  daily  intimacy.  It  was  his  idea  to  give  permanence 
to  the  new  order  of  things  by  associating  two  strong  parties  in  its 
support,  the  friends  of  legitimacy  and  the  republicans.  He  sug- 
gested that  Henry  V.  should  be  called  to  the  hereditary  throne  of 
France,  a  youth  yet  to  be  educated  as  the  head  of  a  free  people, 
that  the  peerage  should  be  abolished,  and  a  legislature  of  two 
chambers  established,  with  a  constituency  of  at  least  a  million 
and  a  half  of  electors ;  the  senate  to  be  chosen  by  the  general 
vote,  as  the  representative  of  the  entire  nation,  and  the  members 
of  the  other  house  to  be  chosen  by  districts,  as  the  representatives 
of  the  local  interests.  To  the  middle  ground  of  politics  so 
ostentatiously  occupied  by  Louis  Philippe»at  the  beginning  of  his 
reign,  he  predicted  a  brief  duration,  believing  that  it  would  speedily 
be  merged  in  despotism,  or  supplanted  by  the  popular  rule.  His 
prophecy  has  been  fulfilled  more  amply  than  he  could  have  imagin- 
ed—fulfilled in  both  its  alternatives. 

In  one  of  the  controversies  of  that  time.  Cooper  bore  a  dis- 
tinguished part.  The  Revue  Britannique,  a  periodical  published 
in  Paris,  boldly  atfirmed  the  government  of  the  United  States  to 
be  one  of  the  mbst  expensive  in  the  world,  and  its  people  among 
the  most  heavily  taxed  of  mankind.  This  assertion  was  supported 
with  a  certain  show  of  proof,  and  the  writer  aflTected  to  have 
established  the  conclusion  that  a  republic  must  necessarily  be  more 
expensive  than  a  monarchy.  The  partisans  of  the  court  were 
delighted  with  the  reasoning  of  the  article,  and  claimed  a  triumph 


OF    J.     FEMMO:iK    COOI'ER.  15 

orer  our  ancient  friend  La  Fayette,  who,  durinL,'"  forty  yearH,'had 
not  ueased  to  hold  uj)  tlie  governmeHl  of  the  United  States  as  thti 
cheapest  in  the  world.  At  the  suggestion  of  L;i  Fayette,  Cooper 
replied  lo  this  attack  upon  his  country  in  n  letter  which  was 
translated  into  French,  and,  together  witii  another  from  Genei-al 
Bertrand,  for  many  years  a  resident  in  America,  was  laid  befoie 
the  people  vi  France. 

These  two  letters  provoked  a  shower  of  rejoinders,  in  which, 
according  to  Cooper,  misstatements  were  mingled  with  scunility. 
He  commenced  a  series  of  letters  on  the  question  in  dispute, 
which  were  pubHshed  in  the  National,  a  daily  sheet,  and  gave  the 
fnst  evidence  of  that  extraordinary  acuteness  in  controversy  \s  hich 
was  no  less  characteristic  of  his  mind  than  the  vigor  of  hiis 
imagination.  1"he  enemies  of  La  Fayette  pressed  into  their  ser- 
vice Mr.  Leaviit  Harris,  of  New  Jersey,  afterwards  our  chargt 
d'affaires  at  the  court  of  France,  but  Cooper  replied  to  Mr.  Harris 
in  the  National  of  May  2d,  1832,  closing  a  discussion  in  which  he 
had  effectually  silenced  those  who  objected  to  our  institutions  on 
the  score  of  economy.  Of  these  letters,  which  would  form  an 
important  chapter  in  political  science,  no  entire  copy,  I  have  been 
told,  is  to  be  found  in  this  country. 

One  of  the  consequences  of  earnest  controversy  is  almost  in- 
variably personal  ill-will.  Cooper  was  told  by  one  who  held  an 
official  station  under  the  French  government,  that  the  part  he  had 
taken  in  this  dispute  concerning  taxation  would  neither  be  for- 
gotten nor  forgiven.  The  dislike  he  had  incurred  in  that  quarter 
was  strengthened  by  his  novel  of  the  Bravo,  published  hi  the  year 
1831,  while  he  was  in  the  midst  of  his  quarrel  with  the  aristoci-atic 
party.  In  that  work,  of  which  he  has  himself  justly  said  that  it 
was  tiioroughly  American  in  all  that  belonged  to  it,  his  object 
was  to  show  how  institutions,  professedly  created  to  prevent 
violence  and  wrong,  become,  when  perverted  from  their  naturjil 
destination,  the  instruments  of  injustice  ;  and  how,  in  every  system 
which  makes  power  the  exclusive  property  of  the  strong,  the  weak 
are  sure  to  be  oppressed.  The  work  is  written  with  all  the  vigor 
and  spirit  of  his  best  novels;  the  magnificent  city  of  Venice,  in 
which  the  scene  of  the  story  is  laid,  stands  continually  before  the 
imagination ;  and  from  time  to  time  the  gorgeous  ceremonies  of 
the  Venetian  republic  pass  under  our  eyes,  such  as  the  marriage 
of  the  Doge  witli  the  Adriatic,  and  the  contest  of  the  gondolas  for 
the  prize  of  speed.  The  Bravo  himself  and  several  of  the  other 
characters  are  strongly  conceived  and  distinguished,  *but  the  most 
remarkable  of.  there  all  is  the  spirited  and  generous-hearted 
daughter  of  the  jailer. 

It  has  been  said  by  some  critics,  who  judge  of  Cooper  by  his 
failures,  that  he  liad  no  skill  in  drawing  female  characters.     By 


16  LIFE,    GP:N1US,    and    WRlTINOfi 

the  same  process,  it  might,  I  suppose,  be  shown  that  Raphael  was 
but  an  ordinaiy  painter.  It  must  be  admitted  that  when  Cooper 
drew  a  lady  of  high  breeding,  he  was  apt  to  pay  too  much 
attention  to  the  formal  part  of  her  character,  and  to  make  her  a 
mere  bundle  of  cold  proprieties.  But  when  he  places  his  heroines 
m  some  situation  in  life  which  leaves  him  nothing  to  do  but  to 
make  them  natural  and  true,  I  know  of  nothing  finer,  nothing 
more  attractive  or  more  individual  than  the  portraitures  he  has 
given  us. 

Figaro.)  the  wittiest  of  the  French  periodicals,  and  at  that  time 
on  the  liberal  side,  commended  the  Bravo;  the  journals  on  the 
side  of  the  government  censured  it.  Figaro  afterwards  passed 
into  the  hands  of  the  aristocratic  party,  and  Cooper  became  the 
object  of  its  attacks.  He  was  not,  however,  a  man  to  be  driven 
from  any  purpose  which  he  had  formed,  either  by  flattery  or  abuse, 
and  both  were  tried  with  equal  ill  success.  In  1832  he  published 
his  Heidenmauer,  and  in  1 833  his  Headsman  of  Berne,  both  with 
a  political  design  similar  to  that  of  the  Bravo,  though  neither  of 
them  takes  the  same  high  rank  among  his  works. 

In'  1833,  after  a  residence  of  seven  years  in  ditferent  parts  of 
Europe,  but  mostly  in  France,  Cooper  returned  to  his  native 
country.  The  welcome  whicli  met  him  here  was  somewhat 
chilled  by  the  effect  of  the  attacks  made  upon  him  in  France, 
and  remembering  with  what  zeal,  and  at  what  sacrifice  of  the 
universal  acceptance  which  his  works  would  otherwise  liave  met, 
he  had  maintained  the  cause  of  his  country  against  the  wits  and 
orators  of  the  court  party  in  France,  we  cannot  wonder  that  he 
should  have  felt  this  coldness  as  undeserved.  He  published, 
shortly  after  his  arrival  in  this  country,  A  Letter  to  his  Countrymen 
in  which  he  complained  of  the  censures  cast  upon  him  in  the 
American  newspapers,  gave  a  history  of  the  part  he  had  taken  in 
exposing  the  misstatements  of  the  R'viie  Britanniqiie,  and  warned 
his  countrymen  against  the  too  connnon  error  of  resorting,  with  a 
blind  deference,  to  foreign  authorities,  often  swayed  by  national  or 
political  prejudices,  for  our  opinions  of  American  authors.  Going 
beyond  this  topic,  he  exammed  and  reprehended  the  habit  of 
applying  to  the  interpretation  of  our  own  constitution  maxims 
derived  from  the  practice  of  other  governments,  particularly  that 
of  Great  Britain.  The  importance  of  construing  that  mstrument 
by  its  own  principles,  he  illustrated  by  considering  several  points 
in  dispute  between  parties  of  the  day,  on  which  he  gave  very 
decided  opini^ns. 

The  principal  effect  of  this  pamphlet,' as  it  seemed  to  me,  was 
to  awaken  in  certain  quarters  a  kind  of  resentment  that  a  success- 
ful writer  of  fiction  should  presume  to  give  lessons  in  politics.  1 
meddle  not  here  with  the  conclusions  to  which  he  arrived,  though 


OF    J.    FENIMORE    COOPER.  1? 

must  oe  allowed  to  say  that  they  were  stated  and  argued  with 
great  ability.  In  1835  Cooper  published  The  Monnikins,  a 
satirical  work,  partly  with  a  political  aim;  and  in  the  same  year 
appeared  Iiis  Amcricdn  Democrat,  a  view  of  the  civil  and  social 
relations  of  the  United  States,  discussing  more  gravely  various 
to[)ics  touched  upon  in  the  former  work,  and  pointing  out  in  what 
respects  he  deemed  the  American  people  in  their  practice  to  have 
fallen  short  of  the  excellence  of  their  in.^titutions. 

He  found  time,  however,  for  a  more  genial  task — that  of  gi\ing 
to  the  world  his  observations  on  foreign  countries.  In  1836 
appeared  his  Sketches  of  Switzerland,  a  series  of  letters  in  four 
volumes,  the  second  part  published  about  two  months  after  the 
first,  a  delightful  work,  written  in  a  more  fluent  and  flexible  style 
than  his  NoUo7is  of  the  Americans.  The  first  part  of  Gleanings  in 
Europe,  giving  an  account  of  his  residence  in  France,  followed 
in  the  same  year  :  and  the  second  part  of  the  same  work,  contain- 
ing his  observations  on  England,  was  published  in  April,  1837. 
In  these  works,  forming  a  series  of  eight  volumes,  he  relates  and 
describes  with  muoh  of  the  same  distinctness  as  in  his  novels ; 
and  his  remarks  on  the  manners  and  institutions  of  the  different 
countries,  often  sagacious,  and  always  peculiarly  his  own,  derive, 
from  their  frequent  reference  to  contemporary  events,  an  historical 
interest,    ^ 

In  1838  appeared  Homeward  Bound  and  Home  as  Found,  two 
satirical  novels,  in  which  Cooper  held  up  to  ridicule  a  certain  class 
of  conductors  of  the  newspaper  press  in  America.  These  works 
had  not  the  good  fortune  to  become  popular.  Cooper  did  not, 
and,  because  he  was  too  deeply  in  earnest,  perhaps  would  not, 
infuse  into  his  satirical  works  that  gaiety  without  which  satire 
becomes  wearisome.  I  believe,  however,  that  if  they  had  been 
written  by  anybody  else  they  would  have  met  with  more  favor; 
but  the  world  knew  that  Cooper  was  able  to  give  them  something 
better,  and  would  not  be  satisfied  with  anything  short  of  his  hest. 
Some  childishly  imagined  that  because,  in  the  two  works  I  have 
just  mentioned,  a  newspaper  editor  is  introduced,  in  whose  cha- 
ricter  almost  every  possible  vice  of  his  profession  \s  made  to  find 
p  place.  Cooper  intended  an  indiscriminate  attack  upon  the  whole 
body  of  writers  for  the  newspaper  press,  forgetting  that  such  a 
portraiture  was. a  satire  only  on  those  to  whom  it  bore  a  likeness 
We  have  become  less  sensitive  and  more  reasonable  of  late,  and 
the  monthly  periodicals  make  sport  for  their  readers  of  the  folliea 
and  ignorance  of  the  newspaper  editors,  without  awakening  the 
slightest  resentment;  but  Cooper  led  the  way  in  this  sort  of 
disciphne,  and  I  remember  some  instances  of  towering  indignation 
at  his  audacity  expressed  in  the  journals  of  that  time. 

The  next  year  Cooper  made  his  appearance  before  the  public  in 


18  LIFE,    GENIUS,    AND    WRITINGS 

a  new  department  of  writing ;  his  Naval  Historij  of  the  United 
Staf.es  was  brought  out  in  two  octavo  volumes  at  Philadelphia,  by 
Carey  and  Lea.  In  writing  liis  stories  of  the  sea,  his  attention  had 
been  much  turned  to  this  subject,  and  his  mind  filled  with  striking 
incidents  from  expeditions  and  battles  in  which  our  naval  com- 
manders had  been  engaged.  This  made  his  task  the  lighter ;  but 
he  gathered  his  materials  with  great  industry,  and  with  a  con- 
scientious attention  to  exactness,  for  he  was  not  a  man  to  take  a 
fact  for  granted,  or  allow  imagination  to  usurp  the  place  of  inquiry 
He  digested  our  naval  annals  into  a  narrative,  written  with  spirit 
it  is  true,  but  with  that  air  of  sincere  dealing  which  the  reader 
willmgly  takes  as  a  pledge  of  its  authenticity. 

An  abridgment  of  the  work  was  afterwards  prepared  and  pub- 
lished by  the  author.  The  Edinburgh  Revieiv,  in  an  article  pro- 
fessing to  examine  the  statements  both  of  Cooper's  work  and  of 
The  History  of  the  English  Navy,  written  by  Mr.  James,  a  surgeon 
by  profession,  made  a  violent  attack  upon  the  American  historian. 
Unfortunately,  it  took  James's  narrative  as  its  sole  guide,  and 
followed  it  implicitly.  Cooper  replied  in  the  Democratic  Review 
for  January,  1840,  and  by  a  masterly  analysis  of  his  statements, 
convicting  James  of  self-contradictfon  in  almost  every  particular 
in  which  he  differed  from  himself,  refuted  both  James  and  the 
reviewer.     It  was  a  refutation  which  admitted  of  no  rejoinder. 

Scarce  anything  in  Cooper's  life  was  so  remarkable,  or  so 
strikingly  illustrated  his  character,  as  his  contest  with  the  news- 
paper press.  He  engaged  in  it  after  provocations,  many  and  long 
sndured,  and  prosecuted  it  through  years  with  great  energy,  per- 
Beverance,  and  practical  dexterity,  till  he  was  left  master  of  the 
field.  In  what  I  am  about  to  say  of  it,  I  hope  I  shall  not  give 
offence  to  any  one,  as  I  shall  speak  without  the  slightest  malevo- 
lence towards  those  with  whom  he  waged  this  controversy.  Over 
some  of  them,  as  over  their  renowned  adversary,  the  gi-ave  has 
now  closed.  Yet  where  shall  the  truth  be  spoken,  if  not  beside 
the  grave  ? 

I  have  already  alluded  to  the  principal  causes  which  provoked 
the  newspaper  attacks  upon  Cooper.  If  he  had  never  meddled 
with  questions  of  government  on  either  side  of  the  Atlantic,  and 
never  satirized  the  newspaper  press,  I  have  little*  doubt  that  he 
would  have  been  spared  these  attacks.  I  cannot,  however,  ascribe 
them  all,  or  even  the  greater  part  of  them,  to  personal  malignity. 
One  journal  followed  the  example  of  another,  with  little  reflection, 
I  think,  in  most  cases,  till  it  became  a  sort  of  fashion,  not  merely 
to  decry  his  works,  but  to  arraign  his  motives. 

It  is  related  that,  in  1832,  while  he  was  at  Paris,  an  article  was 
shown  him  in  an  American  newspaper,  purporting  to  be  a  criticism 


OF    J.    FENIMORE    COOPER.  19 

on  one  of  liis  works,  but  reflecting  with  much  asperity  on  his  per- 
sonal character.  "  I  care  nothing,"  he  is  reported  to  have  said, 
Mbrtlie  criticism,  but  I  am  not  indilierent  to  the  slander.  If 
these  attacks  on  my  character  should  be  kept  up  five  years  after 
my  return  to  America,  I  shall  resort  to  the  New  York  courts  for 
protection."  He  gave  the  newspaper  press  of  this  state  the  full 
period  of  forbearance  on  which  he  had  fixed,  but  finding  that 
forbearance  seemed  to  encourage  assault,  he  sought  redress  in 
the  courts  of  law. 

When  these  litigations  were  first  begun,  I  recollect  it  seemed 
to  me  that  Cooper  had  taken  a  step  which  would  give  him  a 
great  deal  of  trouble,  and  effect  but  little  good.  I  said  to 
myself — 

"  Alas  !   Leviathan  is  not  so  tamed  ! " 

As  he  proceeded,  however,  I  saw  that  he  had  understood  the 
matter  better  than  I.  He  put  a  hook  into  the  nose  of  this  huge 
monster,  wallowing  in  his  inky  pool  and  bespattering  the  passers- 
by  ;  he  dragged  him  to  the  land  and  made  him  tractable.  One  suit 
followed  another ;  one  editor  was  sued,  I  think,  half-a-dozen  times ; 
some  of  them  found  themselves  under  a  second  indictment  before 
the  fiist  was  tried.  In  vindicating  himself  to  his  reader,  against 
the  charge  of  publishing  one  libel,  the  angry  journalist  often 
floundered  into  another.  The  occasions  of  these  prosecutions 
seem  to  have  been  always  carefully  considered,  for  Cooper  was 
almost  uniformly  successtul  in  obtaining  verdicts.  In  a  letter  of 
his,  written  in  February,  1843,  about  five  years,  I  think,  from  the 
commencement  of  the  first  prosecutions,  he  says,  "  I  have  beaten 
every  man  I  have  sued,  who  has  not  retracted  his  libels." 

In  one  of  these  suits,  commenced  against  the  late  William  L. 
Stone  of  the  Commercial  Advertiser,  and  referred  to  the  arbitra- 
tion of  three  distinguished  lawyers,  he  argued  hhnself  the  question 
of  the  authenticity  of  his  account  of  the  battle  of  Lake  Erie, 
which  was  the  matter  in  dispute.  I  listened  to  his  opening;  it 
was  clear,  skilful,  and  persuasive,  but  his  closing  argument  was 
said  to.  be  splendidly  eloquent.  "I  have  heard  nothing  like  it," 
said  a  barrister  to  me,  "  since  the  days  of  Emmet." 

Cooper  behaved  liberally  towards  his  antagonists,  so  far  as 
pecuniary  damages  were  concerned,  though  some  of  them  wholly 
escaped  their  payment  by  bankruptcy.  After,  I  believe,  about  six 
years  of  litigation,  the  newspaper  press  gradually  subsided  into  a 
pacific  disposition  towards  its  adversary,  and  the  contest  closed 
with  the  account  of  pecuniary  profit  and  loss,  so  far  as  he  was 
concerned,  nearly  balanced.  The  occasion  of  these  suits  was  fiir 
from  honorable  to  those  who  provoked  them,  but  the  result  waa, 
I  had  almost  said,  creditable  to  ^1  parties;  to  him,  as  the  coura 


20  LIFE,    GENIUS,    AND    WRITINGS 

geous  prosGcator,  to  the  administration  of  justice  in  this  country, 
and  to  the  docility  of  the  newspaper  press,  which  he  had  disci- 
plined into  good  manners. 

It  was  while  he  was  in  the  midst  of  these  litigations,  that  he 
published,  in  18  10,  the  Pathfinder.  People  had  begun  to  think  of 
him  as  a  controversialist,  acute,  keen,  and  persevering,  occupie 
with  his  personal  wrongs  and  schemes  of  attack  and  defence 
They  were  startled  from  this  estimate  of  his  character  by  tho 
noral  duty  of  that  glorious  work — I  must  so  call  it ;  by  the  vivid 
Tiess  and  lorce  of  its  delineations,  by  the  unspoiled  love  of  natur 
apparent  in  every  page,  and  by  the  fresh  and  warm  emotions 
which  everywhere  gave  life  to  the  narrative  and  the  dialogue. 
Cooper  was  now  in  his  fifty-first  year,  but  nothing  which  he  had 
produced  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  literary  life  was  written  with  so 
much  of  what  might  seem  the  generous  fervor  of  youth,  or 
showed  the  faculty  of  invention  in  higher  vigor.  I  recollect  that 
near  the  time  of  its  appearance  I  was  informed  of  an  observation 
made  upon  it  by  one  highly  distinguished  in  the  literature  of  our 
country  and  of  the  age,  between  whom  and  the  author  an  unhappy 
coolness  had  for  some  years  existed.  As  he  finished  the  reading 
of  the  Pathfinder,  he  exclaimed,  "  They  may  say  what  they  will  of 
Cooper ;  the  man  who  wrote  this  book  is  not  only  a  great  man, 
but  a  good  man." 

The  readers  of  the  Pathfinder  were  quickly  reconciled  to  the  fourth 
appearance  of  Leatherstocking,  when  they  saw  him  made  to  act  a 
different  part  from  any  which  the  author  had  hitherto  assigned 
him — when  they  saw  him  shown  as  a  lover,  and  placed  in  the 
midst  of  associations  which  invested  his  character  with  a  higher 
and  more  affecting  hero.sm.  In  this  work  are  two  female  ch;irac- 
ters,  portrayed  in'  a  masterly  manner, — the  corporal's  daughter, 
Mabel  Dunham,  generous,  resolute,  yet  womanly,  and  the  young 
Indian  woman,  called  by  her  tribe  the  Dew  of  June,  a  personifica- 
tion of  female  truth,  affection,  and  sympathy,  with  a  strong 
aboriginal  cast,  yet  a  product  of  -nature  as  bright  and  pure  as  that 
from  which  she  is  named. 

Mercedes  of  Castile,  published  near  the  close  of  the  same  year, 
has  none  of  the  stronger  characteristics  of  Cooper's  genius;  but  in 
the  Deerslai/er,  which  appeared  in  1841,  another  of  his  Leather- 
stocking  tales,  he  gave  us  a  work  rivalling  the  Pathfinder. 
Leatherstocking  is  brought  before  us  in  his  early  youth,  in  the 
first  exercise  of  that  keen  sagacity  which  is  blended  so  harmo- 
niously with  a  simple  and  ingenuous  goodness.  The  two  daughters 
of  the  retired  freebooter  dwelling  on  the  Otsego  lake,  inspire 
scarcely  less  interest  than  the  principal  personage ;  Judith,  in  tlie 
pride  of  her  beauty  and  intellect,  her  good  impulses  contending 
with  a  fatal  love  of  admu-ation,  holding  us  fascinated  with  a  con- 


OP    J.    FENIMOHE    COOPER.  21 

Htant  interest  in  her  fate,  which,  with  consummate  skill,  we  are 
permitted  rather  to  conjecture  than  to  know:  and  Hetty,  scarcely 
less  beautiful  in  person,  weak-minded,  but  wise  in  the  midst  of 
that  weakness  beyond  the  wisdom  of  the  loftiest  intellect,  through 
the  power  of  conscience  and  religion.  The  character  of  Hetty 
would  have  been  a  hazardous  experiment  in  feebler  hands,  but  in 
his  it  was  admirably  successful. 

The  Tivo  Admirals  and  Wing-ancL-  Wing  were  given  to  the 
ublic  in  1842,  both  of  them  taking  a  high  rank  among  Cooper's 
sea-tales.  The  first  of  these  is  a  soi-t  of  naval  epic  in  prose ;  tho 
flight  and  chase  of  armed  vessels  hold  us  in  breathless  suspense, 
and  the  sea-fights  are  described  with  a  terrible  power.  In  the 
later  sea4ales  of  Cooper,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  mastery  with 
which  he  makes  his  grand  processions  of  events  pass  before  the 
mind's  eye  is  even  greater  than  in  his  earlier.  The  next  year  he 
published  the  Wyandotte  or  Hutted  Knoll,  one  of  his  beautiful 
romances  of  the  woods,  and  in  1844  two  more  of  his  sea-stories, 
Afloat  and  Ashore  and  Miles  Wallingford  its  sequel.  The  long 
series  of  his  nautical  tales  was  closed  by  Jack  Tier  or  the  Florida 
Reef,  published  in  1848,  when  Cooper  was  in  his  sixtieth  year, 
and  it  is  as  full  of  spirit,  energy,  invention,  life-like  presentation 
of  objects  and  events — 

The  vision  and  the  faculty  divine — 

as  anything  he  has  written. 

Let  me  pause  here  to  say  that  Cooper,  though  not  a  manufacturer 
of  verse,  was  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word  a  poet ;  his  imagin- 
ation wrought  nobly  and  grandly,  and  imposed  its  creations  on 
the  mind  of  the  reader  for  realities.  With  him  there  was  no 
withering,  or  decline,  or  disuse  of  the  poetic  faculty :  as  he  stepped 
downwards  from  the  zenith  of  life,  no  shadow  or  chill  came  over 
it ;  it  was  like  the  year  of  some  genial  climates,  a  perpetual  season 
of  verdure,  bloom,  and  fruitfulness.  As  these  works  came  out,  I 
was  rejoiced  to  see  that  he  was  unspoiled  by  the  controversies  in 
which  he  had  allowed  himself  to  become  engaged ;  that  they  had 
not  given,  to  these  better  expressions  of  his  genius,  any  tinge  of 
misanthropy,  or  appearance  of  contracting  and  closing  sympathies 
a^iy  trace  of  an  interest  in  his  fellow-beings  less  large  and  free 
than  in  his  earlier  works. 

Before  the  appearance  of  hisJac/i:  Tier,  Cooper  published,  id 
J 845  and  the  following  year,  a  series  of  novels  relating  to  the 
Anti-rent  question,  in  which  he  took  great  interest.  He  thought 
that  the  disposition  manifested  in  certain  quarters  to  make  con 
cessions  to  what  he  deemed  a  denial  of  the  rights  of  property, 
was  a  first  step  in  a  most  dangerous  path.  To  dif^courage  this 
^sposition,  he  wrote  Satanstos,  The  Chainbearer,  and  T'le  Redf 


22  LIFE,  gentusj,  and  writings 

skins.  They  are  didactic  in  their  design,  and  want  the  freedom 
of  invention  which  belongs  to  Cooper's  best  novels ;  but  if  they 
had  been  written  by  anybody  but  Cooper, — by  a  member  of 
Congress,  for  example,  or  an  eminent  politician  of  any  class, — ■ 
they  would  have  made  his  reputation.  It  was  said,  I  am  told,  by 
a  distinguished  jurist  of  our  state,  that  they  entitled  the  author  to 
as  high  a  place  in  law  as  his  other  works  had  won  for  him  in  lite- 
rature. . 

I  had  thought,  in  meditating  the  plan  of  this  discourse,  to 
mention  all  the  works  of  Mr.  Cooper,  but  the  length  to  which  I 
have  found  it  extending  has  induced  me  to  pass  over  several 
written  in  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life,  and  to  confine  myself  to 
those  which  best  illustrate  his  literary  character.  The  last  of  his 
novels  was  The  Ways  of  the  Hour,  a  work  in  which  the  objections 
he  entertained  to  the  trial  by  jury  in  civil  causes  Were  stated  in 
the  form  of  a  narrative. 

It  is  a  voluminous  catalogue — that  of  Cooper's  published  works 
— but  it  comprises  not  all  he  wrote.  He  committed  to  the  fire, 
without  remorse,  many  of  the  fruits  of  his  literary  industry.  It 
was  understood,  some  years  since,  that  he  had  a  work  ready  for 
the  press  on  the  Middle  States  of  the  Union,  principally  illustrative 
of  their  social  history ;  but  it  has  not  been  found  among  his  manu- 
scripts, and  the  presumption  is  that  he  must  have  destroyed  it. 
He  had  planned  a  work  on  the  Towns  of  Manhattan,  for  the 
publication  of  which  he  made  arrangements  with  Mr.  Putnam  of 
this  city,  and  a  part  of  which,  already  written,  was  in  press  at  the 
time  of  his  death.  The  printed  part  has  since  been  destroyed  by 
fire,  but  a  portion  of  the  manuscript  was  recovered.  The  work,  I 
learn,  will  be  completed  by  one  of  the  family,  who,  within  a  few 
years  past,  has  earned  an  honorable  name  among  the  authors  of 
our  country.  Great  as  was  the  number  of  his  works,  and  great 
as  was  the  favor  with  which  they  were  received,  the  pecuniary 
rewards  of  his  success  were  far  less  than  has  been  generally  sup- 
posed— scarcely,  as  I  am  informed,  a  tenth  part  of  what  the  com- 
mon rumor  made  them.  His  fame  was  infinitely  the  largest 
acknowledgment  which  this  most  successful  of  American  authors 
received  for  his  labors. 

The  Ways  of  the  Hour  appeared  in  1850.  At  this  time  his 
personal  appearance  was  remarkable.  He  seemed  in  perfect  health, 
and  in  the  highest  energy  and  activity  of  his  faculties.  I  have 
scarcely  seen  any  man  at  that  period  of  life  on  whom  his  years  sat 
more  lightly.  His  conversation  had  lost  none  of  its  liveliness, 
though  it  seemed  somewhat  more  genial  and  forbearing  in  tone, 
and  his  spirits  none  of  their  elasticity.  He  was  contemplating,  I 
have  since  been  told,  another  Leatherstocking  tale,  deeming  that 
he  had  not  yet  exhausted  the  character ;  and  those  who  consider 


OF    J.    FEXIMORE    COOPER.  iS 

what  new  resources  it  yielded  him  in  the  Palhfmder  and  tV^  Deet' 
slayer,  will,  readily  conclude  that  he  was  not  mistaken. 

The  disease,  however,  by  which  he  was  removed,  was  even  then 
impending  over  him,  and  not  long  afterwards  his  friends  here  were 
grieved  to  learn  that  his  health  was  declining.  He  came  to  New 
York  so  changed  that  they  looked  at  him  with  sorrow,  and  after 
a  stay  of  some  weeks,  partly  for  the  benefits  of  medical  advice 
leturned  to  Cooperstown,  to  leave  it  no  more.  His  complaint 
grndually  gained  strength,  subdued  a  constitution  originally  robust, 
aad  finally  passed  into  a  confirmed  dropsy.  In  August,  1851,  he 
was  visited  by  his  excellent  and  learned  friend.  Dr.  Francis,  a 
member  of  the  weekly  club  which  he  had  founded  in  the  early 
part  of  his  literary  career.  He  found  him  bearing  the  sufferings 
of  his  disease  with  manly  firmness,  ^ave  him  such  medical  counseU 
as  the  malady  appeared  to  require,  prepared  him  delicately  for  its 
fatal  termination,  and  returned  to  New  York  with  the  most  me- 
lancholy anticipations.  In  a  few  days  afterwards,  Cooper  expired, 
amid  the  deep  affliction  of  his  family,  on  the  14th  of  September, 
the  day  before  that  on  which  he  should  have  completed  his  sixty- 
second  year.  He  died,  apparently  without  pain,  in  peace  and  re- 
ligious hope.  The  relations  of  man  to  his  Maker,  and  to  that 
state  of  being  for  which  the  present  is  but  a  preparation,  had  oc- 
cupied much  of  his  thoughts  during  his  whole  lifetime,  and  he 
crossed,  with  a  serene  composure,  the  mysterious  boundary  which 
divides  this  life  from  the  next. 

The  departure  of  such  a  man,  in  the  full  strength  of  his  facul- 
ties,— on  whom  the  country  had  for  thirty  years  looked  as  one  of 
the  permanent  ornaments  of  its  literature,  and  whose  name  had 
been  so  often  associated  with  praise,  with  renown,  with  contro- 
versy, with  blame,  but  nex  er  with  death, — diffused  a  universal  awe. 
It  was  as  if  an  earthquake  had  shaken  the  ground  on  which  we 
stood,  and  showed  the  grave  opening  by  our  path.  In  the  geii'^.ral 
grief  for  his  loss,  his  virtues  only  were  remembered,  and  his  failings 
forgotten. 

Of  his  failings  I  have  said  little ;  such  as  he  had  were  obvious 
to  all  the  world  ;  they  lay  on  the  surface  of  his  character;  those 
who  knew  him  least  made  the  most  account  of  them.  With  a 
character  so  made  up  of  positive  qualities — a  charactei  .so  inde 
pendent  and  uncompromising,  and  with  a  sensitiveness  far  more 
acute  than  he  was  willing  to  acknowledge,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
occa«^ions  frequently  arose  to  bring  him,  sometimes  into  friendly 
collision,  and  sometimes  into  graver  disagreements  and  misundor 
standings  with  his  fellow-men.  For  his  infirmities,  his  friend* 
found  an  ample  counterpoise  in  the  generous  sincerity  of  hi. 
nature.  He  never  thought  of  disguising  his  opinions,  a»Mi  he  ab- 
horred all  disguise  in  others ;  he  did  not  even  deign  tt,  acse  thAt 


24  LIFE,    GENIUS,    AND    WRITINGS 

show  of  regard  towards  those  of  whom  he  did  not  think  well, 
which  the  world  tolerates,  and  almost  demands.  A  manly  ex- 
pression of  opinion,  however  different  from  his  own,  commanded 
his  respect.  Of  his  own  works,  he  spoke  with  the  same  freedom 
as  of  the  works  of  others ;  and  never  hesitated  to  express  his 
judgment  of  a  book  for  the  reason  that  it  was  written  by  himself; 
yet  he  could  bear  with  gentleness  any  dissent  from  the  estimate 
he  placed  on  his  own  writings.  His  character  was  like  the  bark 
of  the  cinnamon,  a  rough  and  astrmgent  rind  without,  and  an  in- 
tense sweetness  within.  Those  who  penetrated  below  the  surface 
found  a  genial  temper,  warm  affections,  and  a  heart  with  ample 
place  for  his  friends,  their  pursuits,  their  good  name,  their  welfare. 
Tiiey  found  him  a  philanthropist,  though  not  precisely  after  the 
fashion  of  the  day ;  a  religious  man,  most  devout  where  devotion 
IS  most  apt  to  be  a  feeling  rather  than  a  custom,  in  the  household 
circle ;  hospitable,  and  to  the  extent  of  his  means  liberal-handed 
in  acts  of  charity.  They  found,  also,  that  though  in  general  he 
would  as  soon  have  thought  of  giving  up  an  old  triend  as  of 
giving  up  an  opinion,  he  was  not  proof  against  testimony,  and 
could  part  with  a  mistaken  opinion  as  one  parts  with  an  old  friend 
who  has  been  proved  faithless  and  unworthy.  In  short,  Cooper 
was  one  of  those  who,  to  be  loved,  must  be  intimately  known. 

Of  his  literary  character  I  have  spoken  largely  in  the  narrative 
of  his  Hfe,  but  there  are  yet  one  or  two  remarks  which  must  be 
made  to  do  it  justice.  In  that  way  of  writing  in  which  he  ex- 
celled, it  seems  to  me  that  he  united,  in  a  pre-eminent  degree, 
those  qualities  which  enabled  him  to  interest  the  largest  number 
of  readers.  He  wrote  not  for  the  fastidious,  the  over-refined,  the 
morbidly  delicate ;  for  these  find  in  his  genius  something  too  ro- 
bust for  their  liking — sometljing  by  which  their  sensibilities  are 
too  rudely  shaken ;  but  he  wrote  for  mankind  at  large — for  men 
and  women  in  the  ordinary  healthful  state  of  feeling — and  in 
their  admiration  he  found  his  reward.  It  is  for  this  class  that  pub- 
lic libraries  are  obliged  to  provide  themselves  with  an  extraordina- 
ry number  of  copies  of  his  works :  the  number  in  the  ^Mercantile 
Library  in  this  city,  I  am  told,  is  forty.  Hence  it  is,  that  he  has 
earned  a  fame,  wider,  I  think,  than  any  author  of  modern  times- 
wider,  certainly,  than  any  author,  of  any  age,  ever  enjoyed  in  his 
lifetime.  All  his  excellences  are  translatable — they  pass  readily 
into  languages  the  least  allied  in  their  genius  to  that  in  which  he 
wrote,  and  in  them  he  touches  the  heart  and  kindles  the  unagina. 
tion  with  the  same  power  as  in  the  original  English. 

Cooper  was  not  wholly  without  humor;  it  is  sometimes  found 
lurking  in  the  dialogue  of  Harvey  Birch,  and  of  Leather-stocking; 
but  it  forms  no  considerable  element  in  his  works ;  and  if  it  did, 
it  would  have  stood  in  the  way  of  his  universal  popularity,  since 


OF    J.    FENIMOKE    COOPER.  2$ 

of  all  qualities,  it  is  the  most  difficult  to  transfuse  into  a  foreign 
lanouaq-e.  Nor  did  the  etfect  he  produced  upon  the  reader  depend 
OL  any  grace  of  style  which  would  escape  a  translator  of  ordinary 
skill.  With  his  style,  it  is  true,  he  took  great  pains,  and  in  his 
earlier  works,  I  am  toki,  sometimes  altered  the  proofs  s'ent  from 
the  printer  so  largely  that  they  might  be  said  to  be  written  over 
Vet  he  attained  no  special  felicity,  variety,  or  compass  of  expres- 
sion. His  style,  however,  answered  his  purpose;  it  has  defec's, 
but  it  is  manly  and  clear,  and  stamps  on  the  mind  of  the  reader 
the  impression  he  desired  to  convey.  I  am  not  sure  that  some  of 
the  very  defects  of  Cooper's  novels  do  not  add,  by  a  certain  force 
of  contrast,  to  their  power  over  the  mind.  He  is  long  in  getting 
at  the  interest  of  his  narrative.  The  progress  of  the  plot,  at  first, 
is  like  t43at  of  one  of  his  own  vessels  of  war,  slowly,  heavily,  and 
even  awkwardly  working  out  of  a  harbor.  We  are  impatient 
and  weary,  but  when  the  vessel  is  once  in  the  open  sea,  and  feels 
the  free  breath  of  heaven  in  her-  full  sheets,  our  delight  and  ad- 
miration is  all  the  greater  at  the  grace,  the  majesty,  and  power 
with  which  she  divides  and  bears  down  the  waves,  and  pursues 
her  course,  at  will,  over  the  great  waste  of  waters. 

Such  are  the  works  so  widely  read,  and  so  universally  adnyj-ed, 
in  ?U  the  zones  of  the  globe,  and  by  men  of  every  kindred  and 
every  tongue ;  works  wiiich  have  made  of  those  who  dwell  in  re- 
mote latitudes,  wanderers  in  our  forests,  and  observers  of  our 
manners,  and  have  inspired  them  with  an  interest  in  our  history. 
A  gentleman  who  had  returner  from  Europe  just  before  the 
death  of  Cooper,  was  asked  whai  he  found  the  people  of  the  Con- 
tinent doing.  "  They  all  are  re  ding  Cooper,"  he  answered;  '-in 
the  little  kingdom  of  Holland,  vvith  its  three  millions  of  inhabit,- 
ants,  I  looked  into  four  different  translations  of  Cooper  in  the 
language  of  the  country."  A  traveller,  who  has  seea  much  of  the 
middle  classes  of  Italy,  lately  said  to  me,  "I  found  that  all  they 
knew  of  America!^  and  that  was  not  little,  they  had  learned  from 
Cooper's  novels :  from  him  they  had  learned  the  story  of  Ameri- 
•an  liberty,  and  through  him  they  had  been  introduced  to  our 
Washington;  they  had  read  his  works  till  the  shores  of  the 
Hudson,  and  the  valleys  of  Westchester,  and  the  banks  of  Otsego 
lake,  had  become  to  them  familiar  ground." 

Over  all  the  countries  into  whose  speech  this  great  man'fe  works- 
have  been  rendered  by  the  labors  of  their  scholars,  the  sorrow 
of  that  loss  which  we  deplore  is  now  diffusing  itself.  Here  we 
lament  the  ornament  of  our  country,  there  they  mourn  the  death 
of  him  who  delighted  the  human  race.  Even  now,  while  I  speak, 
the  pulse  of  grief  which  is  passing  through  the  nations  has  haply 
just  reached  some  remote  neighborhood ;  the  news  of  his  death 
ban  been  brought  to  some  dwelling  on  the  slopes  of  the  Andes,  or 

2 


26  LIFE    AND    WRITIKGS    OF    J.    FENIMORE    COOPER. 

amidst  the  snowy  wastes  of  the  North,  and  the  dark-eyed  damsei 
of  Chile,  or  the  fair-haired  maid  of  Norway,  is  sad  to  think  that 
he  whose  stories  of  heroism  and  true  love  have  so  often  kept  her 
for  hourg  from  her  pillow,  lives  no  more. 

He  is  gone!  but  the  creations  of  his  genius,  fixed  in  living 
words,  survive  the  frail  material  organs  by  which  the  words  were 
first  traced.  They  partake  of  a  middle  nature,  between  the 
deathless  mind  and  the  decaying  body  of  which  they  are  the  com- 
mon offspring,  and  are,  therefore,  destined  to  a  duration,  if  not 
eternal,  yet  indefinite.  The  examples  he  has  given  in  his  glorious 
fictions,  of  heroism,  honor,  and  truth,  of  large  sympathies  be- 
tween man  and  man,  of  all  that  is  good,  great,  and  excellent,  em- 
bodied in  personages  marked  with  so  strong  an  individuality  that 
we  place  them  among  our  friends  and  favorites;  his  fratik  and 
generous  men,  his  gentle  and  noble  women,  shall  live  through  cen- 
turies to  come,  and  only  perish  with  our  language.  I  have  said 
with  our  language ;  but  who  shall  say  when  it  may  be  the  fate  of 
the  English  language  to  be  numbered  with  the  extinct  forms  of 
human  speech  1  Who  shall  declare  which  of  the  present  tongues 
of  the  civilized  world  will  survive  its  fellows  ?  It  may  be  that 
some  one  of  them,  more  fortunate  than  the  rest,  will  long  outlast 
them,  in  some  undisturbed  quarter  of  the  globe,  and  in  the  midst 
of  a  new  civilization.  The  creations  of  Cooper's  genius,  even 
now  transferred  to  that  language,  may  remain  to  be  the  delight  of 
the  nations  through  another  great  cycle  of  centuries,  beginning 
after  the  English  language  and  its  contemporaneous  form  of 
•ivilization  shall  have  passed  aM'^v. 


PREFACE 


NEW     EDITION. 


This  book  originally  owed  its  existence  to  an 

accident,  and  it  was  printed  under  circumstances 
that  prevented  the  usual  supervision  of  the  press  by 
the  author.  The  consequences  were  many  defects 
in  plot,  style,  and  arrangement,  that  were  entirely 
owing  to  precipitation  and  inexperience ;  and  quite 
as  many  faults,  of  another  nature,  that  are  to  be 
traced  solely  to  a  bad  manuscript  and  worse  proof 
reading.  Perhaps  no  novel  of  our  times  was  worst 
printed  than  the  first  edition  of  this  work.  Mor* 
than  a  hundred  periods  were  placed  in  the  middle 
of   sentences,    and  perhaps  five  times  that  number 


XXVIU     ^    •  PREFACE. 

were  omitted  in  places  wliere  they  ought  to  have 
been  inserted.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add,  that 
passages  were  rendered  obscure,  and  that  entire 
paragraphs  were  unintelligible. 

Most  of  the  faults  just  mentioned  have  now  been 
corrected,  though  it  would  require  more  labor  than 
would  produce  an  entirely  new  work,  to  repair  all 
the  inherent  defects  that  are  attributable  to  haste, 
and  to  the  awkwardness  of  a  novice  in  the  art  of 
composing.  In  this  respect,  the  work  and  its 
blemishes  are  probably  inseparable.  Still,  the  reader 
will  now  be  better  rewarded  for  his  time,  and,  on 
the  whole,  the  book  is  much  more  worthy  of  his 
attention. 

It    has    been    said    that    Pkeoaution  owes    its 

existence   to   fortuitous   circumstances.      The   same 

causes  induced  its  English  plot,  and,  in  a  measure, 

« 
the  medley  of  characters  that  no  doubt  will  appear 

a  mistake  in  the  conception.     It  can   scarcely  be 

said  that  the  work  was  commenced  with  any  view  to 

publication;    and   when   it   was  finally   put   into  a 

publisher's  hands,  with  "  all  its  imperfections  on  ita 

head,"  the  last  thought  of    the  writer   was    any 


PREFACE.  XXIX 

expectatioD  that  it  would  be  followed  by  a  series  of 
similar  tales  from  the  same  pen.  "^ 

More  than  this  the  public  will  feel  no  interest  in 
knowing,  and  less  than  this  the  author,  could  not 
consent  to  say  on  presenting  to  the  world  a  reprint 
of  a  book  with  so  lew  claims  to  notice. 


PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  I  WONDER  if  we  are  to  have  a  neighbor  in  the  Deanery 
Boon,"  inquired  Clara  Moseley,  addressing  herself  to  a  small 
party  assembled  in  her  father's  drawing-room,  while  standing 
at  a  window  which  commanded  a  distant  view  of  the  house 
in  question. 

"  Oh  yes,"  replied  her  brother,  "  the  agent  has  let  it  to  a 
Mr.  Jarvis  for  a  couple  of  years,  and  he  is  to  take  possession 
this  week." 

"  And  who  is  the  Mr.  Jarvis  that  is  about  to  become  so 
near  a  neighbor  ?"  asked  Sir  Edward  Moseley. 

"  Why,  sir,  I  learn  he  has  been  a  capital  merchant ;  that 
he  has  retired  from  business  with  a  large  fortune  ;  that  he  has, 
jke  yourself,  sir,  an  only  hope  for  his  declming  years  in 
son,  an  officer  in  the  army ;  and,  moreover,  that  he  has 
couple  of  fine  daughters  ;  so,  sir,  he  is  a  man  of  family  in  one 
sense,  at  least,  you  see.  But,"  dropping  his  voice,  "  whether 
he  is  a  man  of  family  in  your  sense,  Jane,"  looking  at  his 
second  sister,  "  is  more  than  I  could  discover." 


82  PRECAUTION. 

"  I  hope  you  did  not  take  the  trouble,  sir,  to  inquire  oj 
my  account,"  retorted  Jane,  coloring  slightly  with  vexation 
at  his  speech. 

"  Indeed  I  did,  my  dear  sis,  and  solely  on  your  account/* 
eplied  the  laughing  brother,  "for  you  well  know  that  no 
gentility,  no  husband ;  and  it's  dull  work  to  you  young  ladies 
without  at  least  a  possibility  of  matrimony  ;  as  for  Clara,  sh 

is " 

Here  he  was  stopped  by  his  youngest  sister  Emily  placing 
her  hand  on  his  mouth,  as  she  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  John, 
you  forget  the  anxiety  of  a  certain  gentleman  about  a  fair 
incognita  at  Bath,  and  a  list  of  inquiries  concerning  her  line- 
age, and  a  few  other  indispensables."  John,  in  his  turn, 
colored,  and  affectionately  kissing  the  hand  which  kept  him 
silenf,  addressed  himself  to  Jane,  and  by  his  vivacity  and 
good  humor  soon  restored  her  to  complacency. 

"I  rejoice,"  said  Lady  Moseley,  "that  Sir  WiHiam  has 
found  a  tenant,  however ;  for  next  to  occupying  it  himself,  it 
is  a  most  desirable  thing  to  have  a  good  tenant  in  it,  on 
account  of  the  circle  in  which  we  live." 

"  And  Mr.  Jan-is  has  the  great  goodness  of  money,  by 
John's  account,"  caustically  observed  Mrs.  Wilson,  who  was 
a  sister  of  Sir  Edward's. 

"  Let  me  tell  you,  mad^m,"  cried  the  rector  of  the  parish, 
looking  around  him  pleasantly,  and  who  was  pretty  constant, 
and  always  a  welcome  visitor  in  the  family,  "  that  a  great 
deal  of  money  .is  a  very  good  thing  in  itself,  and  that  a  great 
many  very  good  things  may  be  done  with  it" 

"  Such  as  paying  tythes,  ha  !  doctor/'  cried  Mr.  Haughton, 
a  gentleman  of  landed  property  in  the  neighborhood,  of 
plain  exterior,  but  great  goodness  of  heart,  and  between  whom 
and  the  rector  subsisted  the  most  cordial  good  will. 

"  Aye,  tythes,  or  halves,  as  the  barorfet  did  here,  when  he 


PRECAUTION.  38 

V>rgave  old  Grregson  one  half  his  rent,  and  his  children  the 
other." 

"  Well,  but,  my  dear,"  said  Sir  Edward  to  his  wife,    "  you 
must  not  starve  our  friends  because  we  are  to  have  a  neigh 
or.     William  has  stood  with  the  dining-room  door  open 
hese  five  minutes — " 

Lady  Moseley  gave  her  hand  to  the  rector,  and  the  com 
pany  followed  them,  without  any  order,  to  the  dinner  table. 

The  party  assembled  around  the  hospitable  board  of  the 
baronet  was  composed,  besides  the  before-mentioned  persons, 
of  the  wife  of  Mr.  Haughton,  a  woman  of  much  good  sense 
and  modesty  of  deportment :  their  daughter,  a  young  lady 
conspicuous  for  nothing  but  good  nature ;  and  the  wife  -and 
son  of  the  rector — the  latter  but  lately  admitted  to  holy 
orders  himself. 

The  remainder  of  the  day  passed  in  an  uninterrupted  flow 
of  pleasant  conversation,  the  natural  consequence  of  a  unison 
of  opinions  on  all  leading  questions,  the  parties  having  long 
known  and  esteemed  each  other  for  those  qualities  which 
soonest  reconcile  us  to  the  common  frailties  of  our  nature. 
On  parting  at  the  usual  hour,  it  was  agreed  to  meet  that  day 
week  at  the  rectory,  and  the  doctor,  on  making  his  bow  to 
Lady  Moseley,  observed,  that  he  intended,  in  virtue  of  his 
office,  to  make  an  early  call  on  the  Jarvis  family,  and  that,  if 
possible,  he  would  persuade  them  to  be  of  the  party. 

Sir  Edward  Moseley  was  descended  from  one  of  the  most 
respectable  of  the  creations  of  his  order  by  James,  and  had 
inherited,  with  many  of  the  virtues  of  his  ancestor,  an  estate 
which  placed  him  amongst  the  greatest  landed  proprietors  of 
the  county.  But,  as  it  had  been  an  invariable  rule  never  to 
deduct  a  single  acre  from  tlie  inlieritance  of  th«  eldest  son, 
and  the  extravagance  of  his  mother,  who  was  the  daughter 
©f  a  nobleman,  had  much  embarrassed  the  affairs  of  hi*  i* 

2* 


S4  PRECAUTION. 

ther,  Sir  Edward,  on  coming  into  possession  of  his  estate, 
had  wisely  determined  to  withdraw  from  the  gay  world,  by 
renting  his  house  in  town,  and  retiring  altogether  to  his  res- 
pectable mansion,  about  a  hundred  miles  from  the  metropolis. 
Here  he  hoped,  by  a  course  of  systematic  but  liberal  eco- 
nomy, to  release  himself  from  all  embarrassments,  and  to  make 
such  a  provision  for  his  younger  children,  tire  three  daughters 
already  mentioned,  as  he  conceived  their  birth  entitled  them 
to  expect.  Seventeen  years  enabled  him  to  accomplish  this 
plan ;  and  for  more  than  eighteen  months,  Sir  Edv/ard  had 
resumed  the  hospitality  and  appearance  usual  in  his  fomily, 
and  had  even  promised  his  delighted  girls  to  take  possession, 
the  ^ensuing  winter,  of  the  house  in  St.  James's  Square. 
Nature  had  not  qualified  Sir  Edward  for  great  or  continued 
exertions,  and  the  prudent  decision  he  had  taken  to  retrieve 
his  fortunes,  was  perhaps  an  act  of  as  much  forecast  and 
vigor  as  his  talents  or  energy  would  afford  ;  it  was  the  step 
most  obviously  for  his  interests,  and  the  one  that  was  safest 
both  in  its  execution  and  consequences,  and  as  such  it  had 
been  adopted :  but,  had  it  required  a  single  particle  more  of 
enterprise  or  calculation,  it  would  have  been  beyond  his 
powers,  and  the  heir  might  have  yet  labored  under  the  diffi- 
culties which  distressed  his  more  brilliant,  but  less  prudent 
•parent. 

The  baronet  was  warmly  attached  to  his  wife ;  and  as  she 
was  a  woman  of  many  valuable  and  no  obnoxious  qualities, 
civil  and  attentive  by  habit  to  all  around  her,  and  perfectly 
disinterested  in  her  attachments  to  her  own  family,  nothing 
m  nature  could  partake  more  of  perfection  in  the  eyes  of  her 
husband  and  children  than  the  conduct  of  this  beloved  rela- 
tive. Yet  Lady  Moseley  had  hei-  failings,  however,  although 
few  were  disposed  to  view  her  errors  with  that  severity  which 
ti'uth  and  a  just  discrimination  of  character  render  necessary. 


PRECAUTION.  36 

Her  union  had  been  one  of  love,  and  for  a  time  it  had  been 
objected  to  by  the  friends  of  her  husband,  on  the  score  of 
fortune ;  but  constancy  and  perseverance  prevailed,  and  the 
protracted  and  inconsequent  opposition*  of  his  parents  had 
left  no  other  effects  than  an  aversion  in  the  children  to  th 
exercise  of  parental  authority,  in  marrying  their  own  descend- 
ants :  an  aversion  which,  though  common  to  both  the  worthy 
mronet  and  his  wife,  was  somewhat  different  in  its  two  sub- 
jects. In  the  husband  it  was  quiescent ;  but  in  the  wife,  it 
was  slightly  shaded  with  tlje  female  esprit  de  corps,  of  having 
her  daughters  comfortably  established,  and  that  in  due 
season.  Lady  Moseley  was  religious,  but  hardly  pious ;  she 
was  charitable  in  deeds,  but  not  always  in  opinions ;  her 
intentions  were  pure,  but  neither  her  prejudices  nor  her  rea- 
soning powers  suffered  her  to  beat  all  times  consistent.  Still 
few  knew  her  that  did  not  love  her,  and  none  were  ever  heard 
to  say  aught  against  her  breeding,  her  morals,  or  her  disposi- 
tion. 

The  sister  of  Sir  Edward  had  been  married,  early  in  life,  to 
an  officer  in  the  army.,  who,  spending  much  of  his  time  abroad 
on  service,  had  left  her  a  prey  to  that  solicitude  to  which  she 
was  necessarily  a  prey  by  her  attachment  to  her  husband. 
To  find  relief  from  this  perpetual  and  life-wearing  anxiety, 
an  invaluable  friend  had  pointed  out  the  only  true  remedy 
of  which  her  case  admitted,  a  research  into  her  own  heart, 
and  the  employments  of  active  benevolence.  The  death  of 
her  husband,  who  lost  his  life  in  battle,  caused  her  to  with- 
draw in  a  great  measure  from  the  world,  and  gave  ti?ne  and 
inducement  for  reflections,  which  led  to  impressions  on  reli- 
gion that  \vere  sufficiently  correct  in  themselves,  and  iiidis- 
pensable  as  the  basis  of  future  happiness,  but  which  became 
slightly  tinctured  with  the  sternness  of  lier  vigorous  mind, 
and  possibly,  at  times  were  more  unbending  than  was  com- 


36  TRECAUTION. 

patible  with  the  comforts  of  this  world ;  a  fault,  however,  of 
manner,  more  than  of  matter.  Warmly  attached  to  her 
brother  and  his  children,  Mrs.  Wilson,  who  had  never  been  a 
mother  herself,  yielded  to  their  earnest  entreaties  to  become 
one  of  the  family ;  and  although  left  by  the  late  General 
Wilson  with  a  large  income,  ever  since  his  death  she  had 
iven  up  her  own  establishment,  and  devoted  most  of  hei 
time  to  the  formation  of  the  character  of  her  youngest  niece. 
Lady  Moseley  had  submitted  this  child  entirely  to  the  control 
of  the  aunt ;  and  it  was  commonly  thought  Emily  would 
inherit  the  very  handsome  sum  left  at  the  disposal  of  the 
General's  widow. 

Both  Sir  Edward  and  Lady  Moseley  possessed  a  large 
share  of  personal  beauty  when  young,  and  it  had  descended 
in  common  to  all  their  children,  but  more  particularly  to  the 
two  youngest  daughters.  Although  a  strong  family  resem- 
blance, both  in  person  and  character,  existed  between  these 
closely  connected  relatives,  yet  it  existed  with  shades  of  dis- 
tinction that  had  very  different  eflects  on  their  conduct,  and 
led  to  results  which  stamped  their  lives. with  widely  differing 
degrees  of  happiness. 

Between  the  families  at  Moseley  Hall  and  the  rectory,  there 
had  existed  for  many  years  an  intimacy  founded  on  esteem 
and  on  long  intercourse.  Doctor  Ives  was  a  clotgyman  of 
dt^ep  piety,  and  of  veiy  considerable  talents ;  he  posse«^sed, 
in  addition  to  a  moderate  benefice,  an  independent  forturte 
in  right  of  his  wife,  who  was  the  only  child  of  a  distinguished 
naval  officer.  Both  were  well  connected,  well  bred,  and  well 
disposed  to  their  fellow  creatures.  They  were  blessed  with 
but  one  child,  the  young  divine  we  have  mentioned,  who  pro- 
mised to  equal  his  father  in  all  those  qualities  which  had 
made  the  l3octor  the  dehght  of  his  friends,  and  almost  th» 
idol  of  his  parishionei*s. 


PRECAUTION.  37 

Between  Francis  Ives  and  Clara  Moseley,  there  had  been 
An  attachment,  which  had  grown  with  their  years,  from  child- 
hood, ile  bad  been  her  companion  in  their  youthful  recrea- 
tions, had  espoused  her  little  quarrels,  and  participated  in  hei 
innocent  pleasures.^  for  so  many  years,  and  with  such  an  evi- 
dent preference  for  each  other  in  the  youthful  pair,  that,  on 
leaving  college  to  enter  on  the  studies  of  his  sacred  calling 
with  his  father,  Francis  rightly  judged  that  none  other  would 
make  his  future  life  as  happy,  as  the  mild,  the  tender,  the 
unassuming  Clara.  Their  passion,  if  so  gentle  a  feeling 
deserre  the  term,  received  the  sanction  of  their  parents,  and 
the  two  families  waited  only  for  the  establishment  of  the 
young  divine,  to  perfect  the  union. 

The  retirement  of  Sir  Edward's  family  had  been  uniform, 
with  the  exception  of  an  occasional  visit  to  an  aged  uncle  of 
his  wife's,  and  who,  in  return,  spent  much  of  his  time  with 
them  at  the  Hall,  and  who  had  openly  declared  his  intention 
of  making  the  children  of  Lady  Moseley  his  heirs.  The  visits 
of  Mr.  Benfield  were  always  hailed  with  joy,  and  as  an  evejit 
that  called  for  more  than  ordinary  gaiety ;  for,  although 
rough  in  manner,  and  somewhat  infirm  from  years,  the  old 
bachelor,  who  was  rather  addicted  to  the  customs  in  which 
he  had  indulged  in  his  youth,  and  was  fond  of  dwelling  on 
the  scenes  of  former  days,  was  universally  beloved  where  he 
was  intimately  known,  for  an  unbounded  though  eccentric 
philanthropy. 

The  illness  of  the  mother-in-law  of  Mrs.  Wilson  had  called 
her  to  Bath  -the  winter  preceding  the  spring  when  our  history 
commences,  and  she  had  been  accompanied  thither  by  her 
nephew  and  favorite  niece.  John  and  Emily,  during  the 
month  of  their  residence  in  that  city,  were  in  the  practice  of 
making  daily  excursions  in  its  environs.  It  was  in  one  of 
these  little  drives  that  they  were  of  accidental  service  to  a 


88  PRECAUTION. 

very  young  and  very  beautiful  woman,  apparently  in  low 
health.  They  had  taken  her  up  in  their  carriage,  and  con- 
veyed her  to  a  farm-house  where  she  resided,  during  a  faint 
ness  which  had  come  over  her  in  a  walk ;  and  her  beauty 
air,  and  manner,  altogether  so  different  from  those  aroun 
her,  had  interested  them  both  to  a  painful  degree.  They  had 
ventured  to  call  the  following  day  to  inquire  after  her  welfare, 
and  this  visit  led  to  a  slight  intercourse,  which  continued  for 
the  fortnight  they  remained  there. 

John  had  given  himself  some  trouble  to  ascertain  who  she 
was,  but  in  vain.  They  could  merely  learn  that  her  life  was 
blameless,  that  she  saw  no  one  but  themselves,  and  her  dia- 
lect  raised  a  suspicion  that  she  was  not  English.  It  was  to 
this  unknown  fair  Emily  alluded  in  her  playful  attempt  to 
stop  the  heedless  rattle  of  her  brother,  who  was  not  always 
restrained  from  utterinor  what  he  thought  bv  a  proper  regard 
16?  the  feelings*  ot  otiiers. 


PRECAUTION.  39 


CHAPTER  n. 

The  morning  succeeding  the  day  of  the  dinner  at  the  Hall, 
Mrs.  Wilson,  with  all  her  nieces  and  her  nephew,  availed  her- 
self  of  the  fineness  of  the  weather  to  walk  to  the  rectory, 
where  they  were  all  in  the  habit  of  making  informal  and 
friendly  visits.     They  had  just  got  out  of  the  little  village  of 

B ,  which  lay  in  their  route,  when  a  rather  handsome 

travelling  carriage  and  four  passed  them,  and  took  the  road 
which  led  to  the  Deanery. 

"  As  I  live,"  cried  John,  "  there  go  our  new  neighbors  the 
Jarvis's;  yes,  yes,  that  must  be  the  old  merchant  muffled  up 
in  the  corner ;  I  mistook  him  at  first  for  a  pile  of  bandboxes  ; 
then  the  rosy-cheeked  lady,  with  so  many  feathers,  must  be 
the  old  lady — heaven  forgive  me,  Mrs.  Jarvis  I  mean — aye. 
and  the  two  others  the  belles." 

"  You  are  in  a  hurry  to  pronounce  them  belles,  John,"  said 
Jane,  pettishly ;  "  it  would  be  well  to  see  more  of  them  before 
you  speak  so  decidedly." 

"  Oh  !"  replied  John,  "I  have  seen  enough  of  them,  and' 
— he  was  interrupted  by  the  whirling  of  a  tilbury  and  tandem, 
followed  by  a  couple  of  servants  on  horseback.  All  about 
this  vehicle  and  its  mastei*s  bore  the  stamp  of  decided  fashion  ; 
and  our  party  had  followed  it  with  their  eyes  for  a  short  dis- 
tance, when,  having  reached  a  fork  in  the  roads,  it  stopped, 
and  evidently  waited  the  coming  up  of  the  pedestrians,  as  if 
to  make  an  inquiry.  A  single  glance  of  the  eye  was  sufficien 
to  apprise  the  gentleman  on  the  cushion  (who  held  the  reins) 
of  the  kind  of  people  he  had  to  deal  with,  and  stepping  from 


40  PRECAUTION. 

his  carriage,  he  met  them  with  a  graceful  bow,  and  after 
handsomely  apologizing  for  the  trouble  he  was  giving,  he 
desired  to  know  which  road  led  to  the  Deanery.  "  The 
right,"  replied  John,  returning  his  salutation. 

"  Ask  them,  Colonel,"  cried  the  charioteer,  *'  whether  the 
old  gentleman  went  right  or  not."  •    • 

The  Colonel,  in  the  manner  of  a  perfect  gentleman,  but 
with  a  look  of  compassion  for  his  companion's  want  of  tact, 
made  the  desired  inquiry  ;  which  being  satisfactorily  answered, 
he  again  bowed  and  was  retiring,  as  one  of  several  pointers 
who  followed  the  cavalcade  sprang  upon  Jane,  and  soiled 
her  walking  dress  with  his  dirty  feet. 

"  Come  hither,  Dido,"  cried  the  Colonel,  hastening  to  beat 
the  dog  back  from  the  young  lady ;  and  again  he  apologized 
in  the  same  collected  and  handsome  manner,  then  turning  to 
one  of  the  servants,  he  said,  "call  in  the  dog,  sir,"  and 
rejoined  his  companion.  The  air  of  this  gentleman  was  pecu- 
liarly pleasant ;  it  would  not  have  been  difficult  to  pronounce 
him  a  soldier  had  he  not  been  addressed  as  such  by  his 
younger  and  certainly  less  polished  companion.  The  Colonel 
was  apparently  about  thirty,  and  of  extremely  handsome  faco 
and  figure,  while  his  driving  friend  appeared  several  years 
younger,  and  of  altogether  different  materials. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Jane,  as  they  turned  a  corner  which  hid 
them  from  \  lew,  *'  who  they  are  ?" 

"  Who  they  are  ?"  cried  the  brother,  "  why  the  Jarvis's  in 
be  sure ;  didn't  you  hear  them  ask  the  road  to  the  Deanery  ?' 

"  Oh !  the  one  that  drove,  he  may  be  a  Jarvis,  but  not  the 
gentleman  who  spoke  to  us — surely  not,  John  ;  besides,  he 
was  called  Colonel,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  John,  with  one  of  his  quizzing  expressions, 
"  Colonel  Jarvis,  that  must  be  the  alderman ;  they  are  com- 
monly colonels  of  city  Volunteers  :   yes,  that  must  have  been 


PRECAUTION'.  41 

the  old  gem'mun  who  spoke  to  us.  and  I  was  right  after  all 
about  the  bandboxes." 

"  You  forget,"  said  Clara,  smiling,  *'  the  pohte  inquiry  con- 
cerniiig  the  old  gem'mun." 

*'  Ah  !  true ;  who  the  deuce  can  this  Colonel  be  then,  for 
voung  Jarvis  is  only  a  captain,  I  know  ;  who  do  you  think  ho 
is,  Jane  ?" 

"  How  do  you  think  I  can  tell  you,  John  ?  But  whoever  he 
is,  he  owns  the  tilbury,  although  he  did  not  drive  it ;  and  he 
is  a  gentleman  both  by  birth  and  manners." 

"  Why,  Jane,  if  you  know  so  much  of  him,  you  should 
know  more ;  but  it  is  all  guess  with  you." 

"  No ;  it  is  not  guess — I  am  certain  of  what  I  say." 

The  aunt  and  sisters,  who  had  taken  little  interest  in  the 
dialogue,  looked  at  her  with  some  surprise,  which  John 
observing,  he  exclaimed,  "  Poh :  she  knows  no  more  than 
we  all  know." 

•'  Indeed  I  do." 

"  Poh,  poh,  if  you  know,  tell." 

*'  Why,  the  arms  were  different." 

John  laughed  as  he  said,  "  That  is  a  good  reason,  sure 
enough,  for  the  tilbury's  being  the  colonel's  property ;  but 
now  for  his  blood ;  how  did  you  discover  that,  sis — by  his 
gait  and  actions,  as  we  say  of  horses  ?" 

Jane  colored  a  httle,  and  laughed  faintly.  "The  arms 
on  the  tilbury  had  six  quarterings." 

Emily  now  laughed,  and  Mrs.  Wilson  and  Clara  smiled 
while  John  continued  his  teazing  until,  they  reached  the 
lectory. 

While  chatting  with  the  doctor  and  his  wife,  Francis 
returned  from  his  morning  ride,  and  told  them  the  Jarvis 
family  had  arrived  ;  he  had  witnessed  an  unpleasant  accident 
to  a  gig,  in  which  were  Captain  Jarvis,  and  a  friend,  a  Colone] 


42  PRECAUTION. 

Egerton  ;  it  had  been  awkwardly  driven  in  turning  into  the 
Deanery  gate,  and  upset :  the  colonel  received  some  injury 
to  his  ankle,  nothing,  however,  serious  he  hoped,  but  such  as 
to  put  him  under  the  care  of  the  young  ladies,  probably,  for  a 
few  days.  After  the  exclamations  which  usually  follow  such 
details,  Jane  ventured  to  inquire  who  Colonel  Egerton 
was. 

"  I  understood  at  the  time,  from  one  of  the  servants,  that 
he  is  a  nephew  of  Sir  Edgar  Egerton,  and  a  heuten ant- colonel 
on  half-pay,  or  furlough,  or  some  such  thing." 

"  How  did  he  bear  his  misfortune,  Mr.  Francis  ?"  .inquired 
Mrs.  Wilson. 

"  Certainly  as  a  gentleman,  madam,  if  not  as  a  Chiistian,'* 
replied  the  young  clergyman,  sHly  smiling ;  "  indeed,  most 
men  of  gallantry  would,  I  believe,  rejoice  in  an  accident  which 
drew  forth  so  much  sympathy  as  both  the  Miss  Jarvis's 
manifested." 

"  How  fortunate  you  should  all  happen  to  be  near  !"  said 
the  tender-hearted  Clara. 

"  Are  the  young  ladies  pretty  ?"  asked  Jane,  with  some- 
thing of  hesitation  in  her  manner. 

"  Why,  I  rather  think  they  are ;  but  I  took  very  little 
notice  of  their  appearance,  as  the  colonel  was  really  in  evi- 
dent pain." 

"  This,  then,"  cried  the  doctor,  "  affords  me  an  additional 
excuse  for  calling  on  them  at  an  early  day,  so  I'll  e'en  go 
to-morrow." 

"  I  trust  Doctor  Ives  wants  no  apologies  for  performing 
his  duty,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson. 

"  He  is  fond  of  making  them,  though,"  said  Mrs.  Ives, 
peaking  with  a  benevolent  smile,  and  for  the  first  time  in  the 
Uttle  conversation. 

It  was  then  arranged  that  the  rector  should  make  his  offi 


PRECAUTION.  48 

cial  visit,  as  intended  by  himself ;  and  on  his  report,  tlie  ladies 
would  act.  After  remaining  at  the  rectory  an  hour,  they 
.'eturned  to  the  hall,  attended  by  Francis. 

The  next  day  the  doctor  drove  in,  and  informed  them  the 
Jarvis  family  were  happily  settled,  and  the  colonel  in  no  dan- 
ger, excepting  from  the  fascinations  of  the  two  young  ladies, 
who  took  such  palpably  care  of  him  that  he  wanted  for 
nothing,  and  they  might  drive  over  whenever  they  pleased, 
without  fear  of  intruding  unseasonably. 

Mr.* Jarvis  received  his  guests  with  the  frankness  of  good 
feelings,  if  not  with  the  polish  of  high  life ;  while  his  wife, 
who  seldom  thought  of  the  former,  would  have  been  mortally 
offended  with  the  person  who  could  have  suggested  that  she 
omitted  any  of  the  elegancies  of  the  latter.  Her  daughtei*s 
were  rather  pretty,  but  wanted,  both  in  appearance  and 
manner,  the  inexpressible  air  of  haut  ton  which  so  eminently 
distinguished  the  easy  but  pohshed  deportment  of  Colonel 
Egerton,  whom  they  found  reclining  on  a  sofa  with  his  leg  on 
a  chair,  amply  secured  in  numerous  bandages,  but.  unable  to 
rise.  Notwithstanding  the  awkwardness  of  his  situation,  he 
was  by  far  the  least  discomposed  person  of  the  party,  and 
having  pleasantly  excused  himself,  he  appeared  to  think  no 
more  of  the  matter. 

The  captain,  Mrs.  Jarvis  remarked,  had  gone  out  with  his 
dogs  to  try  the  grounds  around  them,  "  for  he  seems  to  live 
only  with  his  horses  and  his  gun  :  young  men,  my  lady,  now^ 
adays,  appear  to  forget  that  there  are  any  things  in  th 
world  but  themselves ;  now  I  told  Harry  that  your  ladyship 
and  daughters  would  favor  us  with  a  call  this  morning — but 
no :  there  he  went,  as  if  Mr.  Jarvis  was  unable  to  buy  us  a 
dinner,  'and  we  should  all  starve  but  for  his  quails  and 
4' peasants." 

'  Quails  and   pheasants,"   cried  John,  in   consternation^ 


'r'M  PRECAUTION. 

**  does  Captain  Jarvis  shoot  quails  and  pheasants  at  this 
time  of  the  year  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Jarvis,  sir,"  said  Colonel  Egerton,  with  a  correcting 
smile,  "  understands  the  allegiance  due  from  us  gentlemen 
to  the  ladies,  better  than  the  rules  of  sporting ;  my  friend,  the 
captain,  has  taken  his  fishing  rod,  I  believe." 

"  It  is  all  one,  fish  or  birds,"  continued  Mrs.  Jarvis,  "  he  is 
cut  of  the  way  when  he  is  wanted,  and  I  believe  we  can  buy 
fish  as  easily  as  birds ;  I  wish  he  would  take  pattern  after 
yourself,  colonel,  in  these  matters." 

Colonel  Egerton  laughed  pleasantly,  but  he  did  not  blush ; 
and  Miss  Jarvis  observed,  with  a  look  of  something  like 
admiration  thrown  on  his  reclining  figure,  "  that  when  Harry 
had  been  in  the  army  as  long  as  his  friend,  he  would  know 
the  usages  of  good  society,  she  hoped,  as  well," 

"  Yes,"  said  her  mother,  "  the  army  is  certainly  the  place 
to  polish  a  young  man ;"  and  turning  to  Mrs.  Wilson,  she 
abruptly  added,  "  Your  husband,  I  believe,  was  in  the  army, 
ma'am  V  . 

"I  hope,"  said  Emily  hastily,  '*  that  we  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  soon,  Miss  Jarvis,  at  the  Hall,"  pre- 
venting by  her  promp'titude  the  necessity  of  a  reply  from  her 
aunt.  The  young  lady  promised  to  make  an  early  visit,  and 
the  subject  changed  to  a  general  and  uninteresting  discourse 
on  the  neighborhood,  the  country,  the  weathei,  and  other 
ordinary  topics. 

"  Now,  John,"  cried  Jane  in  triumph,  as  they  drove  from 
the  door,  "  you  must  acknowledge  my  heraldic  witchcraft, 
as  you  are  pleased  to  call  it,  is  right  for  once  at  least." 

"  Oh !  no  doubt,  Jenny,"  said  John,  who  was  accustomed 
to  use  that  appellation  to  her  as  a  provocation,  when  he  wished 
what  he  called  an  enlivening  scene;  but  Mrs.  Wilson  put  a 
damper  on  his  hopes  by  a  remark  to  his  mother,  and  the 


PRECAUTION.  45 

habitual    respect    jf     both    the    combatants     kept    them 
Bileut. 

Jane  Moseley  was  endowed  by  nature  with  an  excellent 
understanding,  one  at  least  equal  to  that  of  her  brother,  but 
she  wanted  the  more  essential  requisites  of  a  well  governed 
mind.  Masters  had  been  provided  by  Sir  Edward  for  all  his 
daughters,  and  if  they  were  not  acquainted  with  the  usual 
acquirements  of  young  women  in  their  rank  of  life,  it  was  not 
his  fault :  his  system  of  economy  had  not  embraced  a  denial 
of  opportunity  to  any  of  his  children,  and  the  baronet  was 
apt  to  think  all  was  done,  when  they  were  put  where  all 
might  be  done.  Feeling  herself  and  parents  entitled  to  enter 
inco  all  the  gaieties  and  splendors  of  some  of  the  richer 
families  in  their  vicinity,  Jane,  who  had  grown  up  during  the 
tvimporary  eclipse  of  Sir  Edward's  fortunes,  had  sought  that 
self-consolation  so  common  to  people  in  her  situation,  which 
was  to  be  found  in  reviewing  the  former  grandeur  of  her 
house,  and  she  had  thus  contracted  a  degree  of  family  pride. 
If  Clara's  weaknesses  were  less  striking  than  those  of  Jane,  it 
was  because  she  had  less  imagination,  and  because  that  in 
loving  Francis  Ives  she  had  so  long  admired  a  character, 
where  so  little  was  to  b.e  found  that  could  be  censured,  that 
fche  might  be  said  to  have  contracted  a  habit  of  judging  cor- 
rectly, without  being  able  at  all  times  to  give  a  reason  for  her 
conduct  or  her  opinions. 


PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  m. 

The  day  fixed  for  one  of  the  stated  visits  of  Mr.  Benfield 
had  now  arrived,  and  John,  with  Emily,  who  was  the  old 
bachelor's  favorite  niece,  went  in  the  baronet's  post-chaise 

to  the  town  of  F ,  a  distance  of  twenty  miles,  to  meet 

him,  in  order  to  accompany  him  in  the  remainder  of  his  jour- 
ney to  the  Hall,  it  being  a  settled  rule  with  the  old  man,  that 
his  carriage  horses  should  return  to  their  own  stables  every 
night,  where  he  imagined  they  could  alone  find  that  comfort 
and  care  to  which  their  age  and  services  gave  them  a  claim. 
The  day  was  uncommonly  pleasant,  and  the  young  people 
were  in  high  spirits  with  the  expectation  of  meeting  their 
respected  relative,  whose  absence  had  been  prolonged  a  few 
days  by  £l  severe  fit  of  the  gout. 

"  Now,  Emily,"  cried  John,  as  he  settled  himself  comfort- 
ably by  the  side  of  his  sister  in  the  chaise,  "  let  me  know 
honestly  how  you  like  the  Jarvis's,  and  particularly  hew  you 
like  the  handsome  colonel." 

"  Then,  John,  honestly,  I  neither  like  nor  dislike  the  Jar- 
vis's  or  the  handsome  colonel." 

"  Well,  then,  there  is  no  great  diversity  in  our  sentimentSi 
as  Jane  would  say." 

"John!" 

**  Emily!" 

**  I  do  not  like  to  hear  you  speak  so  disrespectfully  of  out 
sister,  whom  I  am  sure  you  love  as  tenderly  as  I  do  myself." 

*'  I  acknowledge  my  error,"  said  the  brother,  taking  hei 
Ijand   and  affectionately   kissing  it,  "and  will  endeavor  t© 


PRECAUTION.  41 

offend  no  more ;  but  this  Colonel  Egerton,  sister,  is  certainly 
a  gentleman,  both  by  blood  and  in  manners,  as  Jane" — 
Emily  interrupted  him  with  a  laugh,  which  John  took  very 
good-naturedly,  repeating  his  remark  without  alluding  to 
their  sister. 

"  Yes,"  said  Emily,  "  he  is  genteel  in  his  deportment,  if 
liat  be  what  you  mean ;  I  know  nothing  of  his  family." 

"■  Oh,  I  have  taken  a  peep  into  Jane's  Baronetage,  wher 
1  find  him  set  down  as  Sir  Edgar's  heir." 

"  I'here  is  something  about  him,"  said  Emily,  musing 
"  that  I  do  not  much  admire ;  he  is  too  easy — there  is  no 
nature ;  I  always  feel  afraid  such  people  will  laugh  at  me  as 
soon  as  my  back  is  turned,  and  for  those  very  things  they 
seem  most  to  admire  to  my  face.  If  I  might  be  allowed  to 
judge,  I  should  say  his  manner  wants  one  thing,  without 
which  no  one  can  be  truly  agreeable." 

"What's  that?" 

"  Sincerity." 

'*  Ah !  that's  my  great  recommendation ;  but  I  am  afraid  I 
shall  have  to  take  the  poacher  up,  with  his  quails  and  his 
pheasants,  indeed." 

"  You  know  the  colonel  explained  that  to  be  a  mistake." 

"  What  they  call  explaining  away ;  but  unluckily  I  saw 
the  gentleman  returning  with  his  gun  on  his  shoulder,  and 
followed  by  a  brace  of  pointers." 

*'  There's  a  specimen  of  the  colonel's  manners  then,"  said 
f'lnily,  smiling;  "  it  will  do  until  the  truth  be  known." 

*'  And  Jane,  when  she  saw  him  also,  praised  his  good 
nature  and  consideration,  in  what  she  was  pleased  to  call 
relieving  the  awkwardness  of  my  remark."     ' 

Emily  finding  her  brother  disposed  to  dwell  on  the  foibles 
of  Jane,  a  thing  he  was  rather  addicted  to  at  times,  was  silent. 
They  rode  some  distance  before  John,  who  was  ever  as  ready 


fcS  PRECAUTION. 

lo  atone  as  he  was  to  oflfend,  again  apologized,  again  pro- 
mised reformation,  and  during  tlie  remainder  of  the  ride  only 
forgot  himself  twice  more  in  the  same  way. 

They  reached  F two  hours  before  the  lumbering  coach 

of  their  uncle  drove  into  the  j'ard  of  the  inn,  and  had  sufficien 
time  to  refresh  their  own  horses  for  the  journey  homewards. 

Mr.  Benfield  was  a  bachelor  of  eighty,  but  retained  th  " 
personal  activity  of  a  man  of  sixty.  He  was  strongly  attachea 
to  all  the  fashions  and  opinions  of  his  youth,  during  which 
he  had  sat  one  term  in  parliament,  having  been  a  great  beau 
and  courtier  in  the  commencement  of  the  reign.  A  disap- 
pointment in  an  affair  of  the  heart  drove  him  into  retirement ; 
and  for  the  last  fifty  years  he  had  dwelt  exclusively  at  a  seat 
he  owned  within  forty  miles  of  Moseley  Hall,  the  mistress  of 
which  was  the  only  child  of  his  only  brother.  In  figure,  he 
was  tall  and  spare,  very  erect  for  his  years,  and  he  faithfully 
preserved  in  his  attire,  servants,  carriages,  and  indeed  every, 
thing  around  him,  as  much  of  the  fashions  of  his  youth  as 
ci»'cumstances  would  allow :  such  then  was  a  faint  outline  of 
the  character  and  appearance  of  the  old  man,  who,  dresse'd 
in  a  cocked  hat,  bag  wig,  and  sword,  took  the  offered  arm  of 
John  Moseley  to  alight  from  his  coach. 

"  So,"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  having  made  good  his  foot- 
ing, on  the  ground,  as  he  stopped  short  and  stared  John  in 
the  face,  "  you  have  made  out  to  come  twenty  miles  to  meet 
an  old  cynic,  have  you,  sir  ?  but  I  thought  I  bid  thee  bring 
Emmy  with  thee." 

John  pointed  to  the  window,  where  his  sister  stood  anxi- 
qjisly  watching  her  uncle's  movements.  On  catching  her  eye, 
he  smiled  kindly,  and  pursued  his  way  into  the  house,  talking 
to  himself. 

'*  Aye,  there  she  is  indeed ;  I  remember  now,  when  I  was 
a  youngster,  of  going  with  my  kinsman,  old  Lord  Gosford,  to 


PRECAUTION.  49 

meet  his  sister,  the  Lady  Juliana,  when  she  first  came  from 
school  (this  was  the  1-^dy  whose  infidehty  had  driven  him 
from  the  world) ;  and  a  beauty  she  was  indeed,  something 
like  Emmy  there ;  only  she  was  taller,  and  her  eyes  were 
black,  and  her  hair  too,  that  was  black ;  and  she  was  not  so 
fair  as  Emmy,  and  she  was  fatter,  and  she  stooped  a  little- 
very  little ;  oh  !  they  are  wonderfully  alike  though ;  don't  you 
think  they  were,  nephew  ?"  he  stopped  at  the  door  of  the 
room;  while  John,  who  in  this  description  could  not  see  a 
resemblance,  which  existed  nowhere  but  in  the  old  man's 
aftections,  was  fain  to  say,  "  yes ;  but  they  were  related,  you 
know,  uncle,  and  that  explains  the  likeness." 

"  True,  boy,  true,"  said  his  uncle,  pleased  at  a  reason  for 
a  thing  he  wished,  and  which  flattered  his  propensities.  *He 
h-ad  once  before  told  Emily  she  put  him  in  mind  of  his  house- 
keeper, a  woman  as  old  as  himself,  and  without  a  tooth  in  her 
head. 

On  meeting  his  niece,  Mr.  Benfield  (who,  like  many  others 
that  feel  strongly,  wore  in  common  the  affectation  of  indiffer- 
ence and  displeasure)  yielded  to  his  fondness,  and  folding 
her  in  his  arms,  kissed  her  affectionately,  while  a  tear  glistened 
in  his  eye;  and  then  pushing  her  gently  from  him,  he 
exclaimed,  "  Come,  come,  Emmy,  don't  strangle  me,  don't 
strangle  me,  girl ;  let  me  live  in  peace  the  little  while  I  have 
to  remain  here — so,"  seating  himself  composedly  in  an  arm 
chair  his  niece  had  placed  for  him  with  a  cushion,  "  so  Anne 
writes  me.  Sir  William  Harris  has  let  the  deanery." 

"  Oh,  yes,  uncle,"  cried  John. 

"  I'll  thank  you,  young  gentleman,"  said  Mr.  Benfield, 
Bternly,  "  not  to  interrupt  me  when  I  am  speaking  to  a  lady 
that  is,  if  you  .please,  sir.      Then  Sir  William  has  let  the 
deanery  to  a  London  merchant,  a  Mr.  Jarvis.     Now  I  knew 
three  people  of  that  name ;    one  was  a  hackney  coachman, 

3 


'50  PRECAUTION. 

wLen  I  was  a  member  of  the  parliament  of  this  realm,  and 
drove  me  often  to  the  house ;  the  other  was  valet-de-chamhre 
to  my  Lord  Gosford  ;  and  the  third,  I  take  it,  is  the  very  man 
who  has  become  your  neighbor.  If  it  be  the  person  I  mean, 
Emmy  dear,  he  is  like — like — aye,  very  like  old  Peter,  my 
steward." 

John,  unable  to  contain  his  mirth  at  this  discovery  of  a 
likeness  between  the  prototype  of  Mr.  Benfield  himself  in 
leanness  of  figure,  and  the  jolly  rotundity  of  the  merchant, 
was  obliged  to  leave  the  room  ;  Emily,  though  she  could  not 
forbear  smiling  at  the  comparison,  quietly  said,  "You  will 
meet  him  to-morrow,  dear  uncle,  and  then  you  will  be  able 
to  judge  for  yourself." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  muttered  the  old  man,  "  very  like  old  Peter, 
my  steward  ;  as  like  as  two  peas."  The  parallel  was  by  no 
means  as  ridiculous  as  might  be  supposed ;  its  history  being 
as  follows : 

Mr.  Benfield  had  placed  twenty  thousand  pounds  in  the 
hands  of  a  broker,  with  positive  orders  for  him  to  pay  it  away 
immediately  for  government  stock,  bought  by  the  former  on 
his  account;  but  disregarding  this  injunction,  the  broker  had 
managed  the  transaction  in  such  a  way  as  to  postpone  the 
payment,  until,  on  his  failure,  he  had  given  up  that  and  a 
much  larger  sum  to  Mr.  Jarvis,  to  satisfy  what  he  called  an 
honorary  debt.  In  elucidating  the  transaction  Mr.  Jarvis 
paid  Benfield  Lodge  a\nsit,  and  honestly  restored  the  bacheloi 
his  property.  This  act,  and  the  high  opinion  he  entertained 
of  Mrs.  Wilson,  with  his  unbounded  love  for  Emily,  were  the 
few  things  which  prevented  his  believing  some  dreadful  judg 
ment  was  about  to  visit  this  world,  for  its  increasing  wicked- 
neis  and  follies.  As  his  own  steward  was  one  of  the  honestest 
fellows  living,  he  had  ever  after  fancied  that  there  was  a  per- 
sonal resemblance  between  him  and  the  conscientious  merchant 


PRECAUTION.  61 

The  hoi-ses  being  ready,  the  old  bachelor  was  placed  care- 
fully between  his  nephew  and  niece,  and  in  that  manner  they 
rode  on  quietly  to  the  Hall,  the  dread  of  accident  keeping 
Mr.  Benfield  silent  most  of  the  way.     On  passing,  however 

stately  castle,  about  ten  miles  from  the  termination  of  their 
ide,  he  began  one  of  his  speeches  with, 

"  Emmy,  dear,  does  Lord  Bolton  come  often  to  see  you  ?' 

"  Very  seldom,  sir ;  his  employment  keeps  him  much  or 
his  time  at  St.  James's,  and  then  he  has  an  estate  in  Ireland." 

"I  knew  his  father  well — he  was  distantly . connected  by 
marriage  with  my  friend  Lord  Gosford ;  you  could  not 
remember  him,  I  suspect "  (John  rolled  his  eyes  at  this 
sufrorestion  of  his  sister's  recollection  of  a  man  who  had  been 
forty  years  dead)  ;  "  he  always  voted  with  me  in  the  parlia- 
ment of  this  realm  ;  he  was  a  thoroughly  honest  man;  very 
much  such  a  man  to  look  at  as  Peter  Johnson,  my  steward : 
but  I  am  told  his  son  likes  the  good  things  of  the  ministry ; 
well,  well,  William  Pitt  was  the  only  minister  to  my  mind. 
There  was  the  Scotchman  of  whom  they  made  a  Marquis ;  I 
never  could  endure  him — always  voted  against  him." 

"  Right  or  wrong,  uncle,"  cried  John,  who  loved  a  little 
mischief  in  his  heart. 

"  No,  sir — right,  but  never  wrong.  Lord  Gosford  always 
voted  against  him  too ;  and  do  you  think,  jackanapes,  that 
my  friend  the  Earl  of  Gosford  and — and — myself  were  ever 
wrong?  No,  sir,  men  in  my  day  were  different  creatures 
from  w^iat  they  are  now :  we  were  never  wrong,  sir ;  wo 
loved  our  country,  and  had  no  motive  for  being  in  the  wrong." 

"  How  was  it  with  Lord  Bute,  uncle  ?" 

"  Lord  Bute,  sir,"  cried  the  old  man  with  great  warmth, 
"  was  the  minister,  sir — he  was  the  minister ;  aye,  he  was  the 
minister,  sir,  and  was  paid  for  what  he  did." 

"  But  Lord  Chatham,  was  he  not  the  minister  tool** 


62  PRECAUTION. 

Now,  nothing  vexed  the  old  gentleman  more  than  to 
hear  William  Pitt  called  by  his  tardy  honors;  and  yet, 
unwilling  to  give  up  what  he  thought  his  political  opinions, 
he  exclaimed,  with  an  unanswerable  positiveness  of  argu 
ment, 

"  Billy  Pitt,  sir,  was  the  minister,  sir ;  but — but — but — he 
was  our  minister,  sir." 

Emily,  unable  to  see  her  uncle  agitated  by  such  useless 
disputes,  threw  a  reproachful  glance  on  her  brother,  as  she 
observed  timidly, 

"  That  was  a  glorious  administration,  sir,  I  believe." 

"  Glorious  indeed  !  Emmy  dear,"  said  the  bachelor,  soften- 
ing with  the  sound  of  her  voice,  and  the  recollections  of  his 
younger  days,  "  we  beat  the  French  everywhere — in  Ame- 
rica— in  Germany ; — we  took — (counting  on  his  fingers) — 
we  took  Quebec — yes,  Lord  Gosford  lost  a  cousin  there ;  and 
we  took  all  the  Canadas ;  and  we  took  their  fleets :  there  was 
a  young  man  killed  in  the  battle  between  Hawke  and  Con- 
flans,  who  was  much  attached  to  Lady  Juliana — poor  soul ! 
how  much  she  regretted  him  when  dead,  though  she  never 
could  abide  him  when  living — ah !  she  was  a  tender-hearted 
creature  !" 

Mr.  Benfield,  like  many  others,  continued  to  love  imaginary 
qualities  in  his  mistress,  long  after  her  heartless  coquetry  had 
disgusted  him  with  her  person:  a  kind  of  feeling  which 
springs  from  self-love,  which  finds  it  necessary  to  seek  con 
solation  in  creating  beauties,  that  may  justify  our  follies  to 
ourselves ;  and  which  often  keeps  alive  the  semblance  of 
the  passion,  when  even  hope,  or  real  admiration,  is 
extinct. 

On  reaching  the  Hall,  every  one  was  rejoiced  to  see  their 
really  affectionate  and  worthy  relative,  and  the  evening  passed 
in  the  tranquil  enjoyment  of  the  blessings  which  Providence 


PRECAUTION.  5S 

had  profusely  scattered  around  the  family  of  the  baronet,  but 
which  are  too  often  hazarded  by  a  neglect  of  duty  that 
springs  from  too  great  security,  or  an  indolence  which 
renders  us  averse  to  the  precaution  necessary  to  msure  theii 
onUnuance. 


54  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

**  You  are  welcome,  Sir  Edward,"  said  the  venerable  rectc. , 
as  lie  took  the  baronet  by  the  hand ;  "  I  was  fearful  a  return 
of  your  rheumatism  would  deprive  us  of  this  pleasure,  and 
prevent  my  making  you  acquainted  with  the  new  occupants 
of  the  deanery,  who  have  consented  to  dine  with  us  to-day, 
and  to  whom  I  have  promised,  in  particular,  an  introduction 
to  Sir  Edward  Moseley." 

"  I  thank  you,  my  dear  doctor,"  rejoined  the  baronet ;  "  I 
have  not  only  come  myself,  but  have  persuaded  Mr.  Benfield 
to  make  one  of  the  party ;  there  he  comes,  leaning  on  Emily's 
arm,  and  finding  fault  with  Mrs.  Wilson's  new-fashioned  ba- 
rouche, which  he  says  has  given  him  cold." 

The  rector  received  the  unexpected  guest  with  the  kindness 
of  his  nature,  and  an  inward  smile  at  the  incongruous  assem- 
blage he  was  likely  to  have  around  him  by  the  arrival  of  the 
Jarvis's,  who,  at  that  moment,  drove  to  his  door.  The  intro- 
ductions between  the  baronet  and  the  new  comers  had  passed, 
and  Miss  Jarvis  had  made  a  prettily  worded  apology  on  be- 
half of  the  colonel,  who  was  not  yet  well  enough  to  come  out, 
bnt  whose  poHteness  had  insisted  on  their  not  remaining  a. 
home  on  his  account,  as  Mr.  Benfield,  having  composedly  put 
on  his  spectacles,  walked  deliberately  up  to  the  place  where 
the  merchant  had  seated  himself,  and  having  examined  him 
Ihrough  his  glasses  to  his  satisfaction,  took  them  off,  and  care- 
fully wiping  them,  he  began  to  talk  to  himself  as  he  put  them 
into  his  pocket — "  No,  no ;  it's  not  Jack,  the  hackney  coach- 
man, nor  m}    Lord    Gosford's   gentleman,  but" — cordially 


PRECAUTION.  65 

Iiolding  out  both  hands,  "it's  the  man  who  saved  my  twenty 
thousand  pounds." 

Mr.  Jarvis,  whom  shame  and  embarrassment  had  kept  silent 
during-  this  examination,  exchanged  greetings  sincerely  with 
his  old  acquaintance,  who  now  took  a  seat  in  silence  by  his 
side  ;  while  his  wife,  whose  face  had  begun  to  kindle  with 
indignation  at  the  commencement  of  the  old  gentleman's  so- 
liloquy, observing  that  somehow  or  other  it  had  not  only  tei'- 
minated  without  degradation  to  her  spouse,  but  with  some- 
thing like  credit,  turned  complacently  to  Mrs.  Ives,  with  an 
apology  for  the  absence  of  her  son. 

'*  I  cannot  divine,  ma'am,  where  he  has  got  to  ;  he  is  ever 
keeping  us  waiting  for  him ;"  and,  addressing  Jane,  "  these 
military  men  become  so  unsettled  in  their  habits,  that  I  often 
tell  Harry  he  should  never  quit  the  camp." 

"  In  Hyde  Park,  you  should  add,  my  dear,  for  he  has  never 
been  in  any^ other,"  bluntly  observed  her  husband. 

To  this,  speech  no  reply  was  made,  but  it  was  evidently 
little  relished  by  the  ladies  of  the  family,  who  w^ere  a  good 
deal  jealous  of  the  laurels  of  the  only  hero  their  race  had 
ever  produced.  The  arrival  and  introduction  of  the  captain 
himself  changed  the  discourse,  which  turned  on  the  comforts 
of  their  present  residehce. 

"  Pray,  my  lady,"  cried  the  captain,  who  had  taken  a  chair 
familiarly  by  the  side  of  the  baronet's  wife,  "  why  is  the  house 
called  the  deanery  ?  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  taken  for  a  son 
of  the  church,  when  I  invite  my  friends  to  visit  my  father  at 
the  deanery." 

"  But  you  may  add,  at  the  same  time,  sir,  if  you  please, 
dryly  remarked  Mr.  Jarvis,  "  that  it  is  occupied  by  an  old 
man,  who  has  been  preaching  and  lecturing  all  his  hfe;  and, 
like  others  of  the  trade,  I  believe,  in  vain.'' 

"  You  must  except  our  good  friend,  the  doctor  here,  at 


66  PRECAUTION. 

least,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson ;  who,  observing  that  her  sistei 
shrank  from  a  familiarity  she  was  unused  to,  took  upon  her- 
felf  the  office  of  replying  to  the  captains  question:  "The 
father  of  the  present  Sir  William  Harris  held  that  station  in 
he  church,  and  although  the  house  was  his  private  property, 
it  took  its  name  from  the  circumstance,  which  has  been  con 
tinued  ever  since." 

."  Is  it  not  a  droll  life  Sir  Wilham  leads,"  cried  Miss  Jarvis, 
looking  at  John  Moseley,  "  riding  about  all  summer  from  one 
watering-place  to  another,  and  letting  his  house  year  after 
year  in  the  manner  he  does  ?'' 

"  Sir  Wilham,"  said  Dr.  Ives,  gravely,  "is  devoted  to  his 
laughter's  wishes ;  and  since  his  accession  to  his  title,  has 
^ome  into  possession  of  another  residence  in  an  adjoining 
coimty,  which,  I  believe,  he  retains  in  his  own  hands." 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  Miss  Harris  ?"  continued  the 
lady,  addressing  herself  to  Clara;  though,  without  waiting 
for  an  answer,  she  added,  "  She  is  a  great  belle — ^1  the  gen- 
tlemen are  dying  for  her." 

.  "  Or  her  fortune,'*  said  her  sister,  with  a  pretty  toss  of  the 
head ;  "  for  my  part,  I  never  could  see  anything  so  capti- 
vating in  her,  although  so  much  is  said  about  her  at  Bath 
and  Brighton." 

"  You  know  her  then,"  mildly  observed  Clara. 
"Why,  I  cannot  say — we  are  exactly  acquainted,"  the 
voung  lady  hesitatingly  answered,  coloring  violently. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  exactly  acquainted,  Sally  ?"  pu 
n  the  father  with  a  laugh ;  "  did  you  ever  speak  to  or  were 
you  ever  in  a  room  with  her,  in  your  life,  unless  it  might  be 
at  a  concert  or  a  ball  ?" 

The  mortification  of  Miss  Sarah  was  too  evident  for  con- 
cealment, and  it  happily  was  relieved  by  a  summons  to 
dinner. 


PRECAUTION.  67 

**  Never,  my  dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson  to  Emily,  the 
»unt  being  fond  of  introducing  a  moral  from  the  occasional 
.ncidents  of  every- day  life,  "never  subject  yourself  to  a  sirai- 
lajr  mortification,  by  commenting  on  the  characters  of  those 
ou  don't  know :  ignorance  makes  you  liable  to  great  errors ; 
and  if  they  should  happen  to  be  above  you  in  life,  it  will  only 
excite  their  contempt,  should  it  reach  their  ears,  while  those 
to  whom  your  remarks  are  made  will  think  it  envy." 

"  Truth  is  sometimes  blundered  on,"  whispered  John,  who 
held  his  sister's  arm,  waiting  for  his  aunt  to  precede  them  to 
the  dining-room. 

The  merchant  paid  too  great  a  compliment  to  the  rector's 
dinner  to  think  of  renewing  the  disagreeable  conversation,  and 
as  John  Moseley  and  the  young  clergyman  were  seated  next 
the  two  ladies,  they  soon  forgot  what,  among  themselves,  they 
would  call  their  father's  rudeness,  in  receiving  the  attentions 
of  a  couple  of  remarkably  agreeable  young  men. 

"  Pray,  Mr.  Francis,  when  do  you  preach  for  us  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Haughton ;  "  I'm  very  anxious  to  hear  you  hold  forth 
from  the  pulpit,  where  I  have  so  often  heard  your  father  with 
pleasure :  I  doubt  not  you  will  prove  orthodox,  or  you  will 
be  the  only  man,  I  believe,  in  the  congregation,  the  rector  has 
left  in  ignorance  of  the  theory  of  our  religion,  at  least," 

The  doctor  bowed  to  the  com])liment,  as  he  rephed  to  the 
question  for  his  son,  that  on  the  next  Sunday  they  were  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  hearing  Frank,  who  had  promised  to 
assist  him  on  that  day. 

"Any  prospects  of  a  living  soon?"  continued  Mr.  Haugh- 
on,  helping  himself  bountifully  to  a  piece  of  plum  pudding 
as  he  spoke.  John  Moseley  laughed  aloud,  and  Clara  blushed 
to  the  eyes,  while  the  doctor,  turning  to  Sir  Edward,  observed' 
with  an  air  of  iiiteresf,,  "Sir  Edward,  the  living  of  Bolton  is 
vacant,  and  I  should  like  exceedingly  to  obtain  it  for  my  son. 

3* 


68  PRECAUTION. 

The  advowson  belongs  to  the  Earl,  who  will  dispose  of  it  mly 
to  o-reat  interest,  I  am  afraid." 

Clara  was  certainly  too  busily  occupied  in  pici>T*.g  raisina 
from  her  pudding  to  hear  this  remark,  but  accidentaiiy  stole, 
from  under  her  long  eyelashes',  a  timid  glance  at  her  father 
as  he  replied : 

"  I  am  sorry,  my  friend,  I  have  not  sufficient  interest  with 
his  lordship  to  apply  on  my  own  account ;  but  he  is  so  seldom 
here,  we  are  barely  acquainted  ;"  and  the  good  baronet  looked 
really  concerned. 

"  Clara,"  said  Francis  Ives  in  a  low  and  affectionate  tone, 
"  have  you  read  the  books  1  sent  you "?" 

Clara  answered  him  with  a  smile  in  the  negative,  but  pro- 
mised amendment  as  soon  as  she  had  leisure. 

"  Do  you  ride  much  on  horseback,  Mr.  Moseley  ?"  abruptly 
asked  Miss  Sarah,  turning  her  back  on  the  young  divine,  and 
facing  the  gentleman  she  addressed.  John,  who  was  now 
hemmed  in  between  the  sisters,  replied  with  a  rueful  expres- 
sion that  brought  a  smile  into  the  face  of  Emily,  who  was 
placed  opposite  to  him — 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  and  sometimes  I  am  ridden." 

"  Ridden,  sir,  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ?" 

"Oh !  only  my  aunt  there  occasionally  gives  me  a  lecture.'* 

*•'  I  understand,"  said  the  lady,  pointing  slily  with  her  finger 
at  her  own  father. 

"  Does  it  feel  good  ?"  John  inquired,  with  a  look  of  great 
sympathy.  But  the  lady,  who  now  felt  awkwardly,  without 
knowing  exactly  why,  shook  her  head  in  silence,  and  forced  a 
ffXint  laugh. 

"Whom  have  we  here  ?"  cried  Captain  Jarvis,  who  was  look 
Ing  out  at  a  window  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  ap 
proach  to  the  house — "the  apothecary  and  his  attendant 
judging  from  the  equipage." 


PRECAUTION.  59 

The  rector  threw  an  inquiring  look  on  a  servant,  who  told 
his  master  they  were  strangers  to  him. 

"  Have  them  shown  up,  doctor,"  cried  the  benevolent  ba- 
ronet, who  loved  to  see  every  one  as  happy  as  himself,  "  and 
give  them  some  of  your  excellent  pasty,  for  the  sake  of  hos- 
pitality and  the  credit  of  your  cook,  I  beg  of  you." 

As  this  request  was  pohtely  seconded  by  others  of  the 
party,  the  rector  ordered  his  servants  to  show  in  the  stran- 
gers. 

On  opening  the  parlor  door,  a  gentleman,  apparently  sixty 
years  of  age,  appeared,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  youth  of  five- 
and-twenty.  There  was  sufficient  resemblance  between  the 
two  for  the  most  indifferent  observer  to  pronounce  them  fa- 
ther and  soil ;  but  the  helpless  debility  and  emaciated  figure 
of  the  former,  were  finely  contrasted  by  the  vigorous  heahh 
and  manly  beauty  of  the  latter,  who  supported  his  venerable 
parent  into  the  room  with  a  grace  and  tenderness  that  struck 
most  of  the  beholdei-s  with  a  sensation  of  pleasure.  The 
doctor  and  Mrs.  Ives  rose  from  their  seats  involuntarily,  and 
each  stood  for  a  moment,  lost  in  an  astonishment  that  was 
mingled  with  grief.  Recollecting  himself,  the  rector  grasped 
the  extended  hand  of  the  senior  in  both  his  own,  and  endea- 
vored to  utter  something,  but  in  vain.  The  tears  followed 
each  other  down  his  cheeks,  as  he  looked  on  the  faded  and 
care-worn  figure  which  stood  before  him ;  while  his  wife,  un- 
able to  control  her  feelings,  sank  back  into  a  chair  and  wept 
jiloud. 

Throwing  open  the  door  of  an  adjoining  room,  and  retain 
ing  the  hand  of  the  invalid,  the  doctor  gentlv  led  the  way,  /ol 
lowed  by  his  wife  and  son.  The  former,  having  recovered  from 
the  first  burst  of  her  sorrow,  and  regardless  of  everything 
else,  now  anxiously  watched  the  enfeebled  step  of  the  stran- 
ger.    On  reaching  the  door,  they  both  turned  and  bowed  to 


60  PKECAUTIOIS. 

the  company  iu  a  manner  of  so  much  dignity,  mingled  with 
sweetness,  that  all,  not  excepting  Mr.  Beufield,  rose  from  their 
seats  to  return  the  salutation.  On  passing  from  the  dining 
parlor,  the  door  was  closed,  leaving  the  company  standing 
round  the  table  in  mute  astonishment  and  commiseration. 
Not  a  word  had  been  spoken,  and  the  rector's  family  had  left 
them  without  apology  or  explanation.  Francis,  however 
soon  returned,  and  was  followed  in  a  few  minutes  by  his  mo- 
ther, who,  slightly  apologizing  for  her  absence,  turned  the 
discourse  on  the  approaching  Sunday,  and  the  intention  of 
Francis  to  preach  on  that  day.  The  Moseleys  were  too  well 
bred  to  make  any  inquiries,  and  the  deanery  family  was 
afraid.  Sir  Edward  retired  at  a  very  early  hour,  and  was 
followed  by  the  remainder  of  the  party. 

"Well,'.'  cried  Mrs.  Jarvis,  as  they  drove  from  the  door, 
"  this  may  be  good  breeding,  but,  for  my  part,  I  think  both 
the  doctor  and  Mrs.  Ives  behaved  very  rudely,  with  the 
crying  and  sobbing." 

*'  They  are  nobody  of  much  consequence,"  cried  her  eldest 
daughter,  casting  a  contemptuous  glance  on  a  plain  travelling 
nhaise  which  stood  before  the  rector's  stables. 

"  'Twas  sickening,"  said  Miss  Sarah,  with  a  shrug ;  while 
her  father,  turning  his  eyes  on  each  speaker  in  succession, 
very  deliberately  helped  himself  to  a  pinch  of  snuff,  his  ordi- 
nary recourse  against  a  family  quarrel.  The  curiosity  of  the 
ladies  was,  however,  more  lively  than  they  chose  to  avow 
and  Mrs.  Jarvis  bade  her  maid  go  over  to  the  rectory  that 
evening,  with  her  compliments  to  Mrs.  Ives ;  she  had  lost  a 
lace  veil,  which  her  maid  knew,  and  she  thought  it  migh 
have  been  left  at  the  rectory, 

"  And,  Jones,  when  you  are  there,  you  can  inquire  of  the 
servants ;  mind,  of  the  servants — I  would  not  distress  Mrs, 
Ives   for    the  world  ;     how  Mr. — Mr. — what's  his  name — 


PRKCAUTION.  62 

Oh ! — I  have  forgotten  his  name  ;  just  bring  me  his  name 
too,  Jones ;  and,  as  it  may  make  some  difference  in  our  party, 
just  find  out  how  long  they  stay  ;  and — and — any  other  httle 
thing,  Jones,  which  can  be  of  use,  you  know." 

Off  went  Jones,  and  within  an  hour  she  had  returned. 
With  an  important  look,  she  commenced  her  narrative,  the 
daughters  being  accidentally  present,  and  it  might  be  on 
purpose. 

"  Why,  ma'am,  I  went  across  the  fields,  and  William  was 
good  enough  to  go  with  me ;  so  when  we  got  there,  I  rang, 
and  they  showed  us  into  the  servants'  room,  and  I  gave  my 
message,  and  the  veil  was  not  there.  Why,  ma'am,  there's 
the  veil  now,  on  the  back  o'  that  chair." 

"Very  well,  very  well,  Jones,  never  mind  the  veil,"  cried 
the  impatient  mistress. 

"  So,  ma'am,  while  they  were  looking  for  the  veil,  I  just 
asked  one  of  the  maids,  what  company  had  arrived,  but" — 
(here  Jones  looked  veiy  suspicious,  and  shook  her  head  omi- 
nously :)  "  would  you  think  it,  ma'am,  not  a  soul  of  tliem 
knew !  But,  ma'am,  there  was  the  doctor  and  his  son,  pray- 
ing and  reading  with  the  old  gentleman  the  whole  time — 
and"—  , 

"  And  what,  Jones  ?" 

"  Why,  ma'am,  I  expect  he  has  been  a  great  smner,  or  he 
wouldn't  want  so  much  praying  just  as  he  is  about  to  die." 

"  Die  !"  cried  all  three  at  once  :  "  will  he  die  ?" 

"  0  yes,"  continued  Jones,  "  they  all  agree  he  must  die*, 
but  this  praying  so  much,  is  just  like  the  criminals.  I'm  sure 
o  honest  person  needs  so  much  praying,  ma'am." 

*'  No,  indeed,"  said  the  mother.  '•  No,  indeed,"  responded 
the  daughters,  as  they  retired  to  their  several  rooms  for  the 
night. 


62  PRECAUTIOir. 


CHAPTER  V. 

There  is  something  in  the  season  of  Spring  which  pecu- 
Tiarly  excites  the  feelings  of  devotion.  The  dreariness  oi 
winter  has  passed,  and  with  it,  the  deadened  aflfections  of  our 
nature.  New  hfe,  new  vigor,  arises  within  us,  as  we  walk 
abroad  and  feel  the  genial  gales  of  April  breathe  upon  us ; 
and  our  hopes,  our  wishes,  awaken  with  the  revival  of  the  ve- 
getable world.  It  is  then  that  the  heart,  which  has  been  im- 
pressed with  the  goodness  of  the  Creator,  feels  that  goodness 
brought,  as  it  were,  into  very  contact  with  the  senses.  The  eye 
loves  to  wander  over  the  bountiful  provisions  nature  is  throw- 
ing forth  in  every  direction  for  our  comfort,  and  fixes  its 
gaze  on  the  clouds,  which,  having  lost  the  chilling  thinness 
of  winter,  roll  in  rich  volumes,  amidst  the  clear  and  softened 
fields  of  azure  so  peculiar  to  the  season,  leading  the  mind  in- 
sensibly to  dwell  on  the  things  of  another  and  a  better  world. 

It  was  o^  such  a  day,  that  the  inhabitants  of  B thronged 

toward  the  village  church,  for  the  double  purpose  of  pouring 
out  their  thankso-ivinofs,  and  of  hearino;  the  first  efforts  of 
their  rector's  son  in  the  duties  of  his  sacred  calling. 

Amongst  the  crowd  whom  curiosity  or  a  better  feeling  had 
drawn  forth,  were  to  be  seen  the  flaring  equipage  of  the  Jar- 
vises,  and  the  handsome  carriages  of  Sir  Edward  Moseley  and 
his  sister.  All  the  members  of  the  latter  family  felt  a  lively 
anxiety  for  the  success  of  the  young  divine.  But  knowing, 
as  they  well  did,  the  strength  of  his  native  talents,  the  excel- 
lence of  his  education,  and  the  fervor  of  his  piety,  it  was  an 
anxiety  that  partook  more  of  h«pe  than  of  fear.     There  was 


PRECAl^'ION.  63 

one  heart,  however,  amongst  them,  that  palpitated  with  an 
emotion  that  hardly  admitted  of  control,  as  they  approached 
the  sacred  edifice,  for  it  had  identified  itself  completely  with 
the  welfare  of  the  rector's  son.  There  never  was  a  softer 
truer  heart,  than  that  which  now  almost  audibly  beat  withiu 
the  bosom  of  Clara  Moseley  ;  and  she  had  given  it  to  the 
young  divine  with  all  its  purity  and  truth. 

The  entrance  of  a  congregation  into  the  sanctuary  will  at 
all  times  furnish,  to  an  attentive  observe!-,  food  for  much 
useful  speculation,  if  it  be  chastened  with  a  proper  charity 
for  the  weaknesses  of  others  ;  and  most  people  are  ignorant 
of  the  insight  they  are  giving  into  their  characters  and  dispo- 
sitions, by  such  an  apparently  trivial  circumstance  as  their 
weekly  approach  to  the  tabernacles  of  the  Lord.  Christi- 
anity, while  it  chastens  and  amends  the  heart,  leaves  the 
natural  powers  unaltered  ;  and  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  its 
operation  is,  or  ought  to  be,  proportionate  to  the  abiUties  and 
opportunities  of  the  subject  of  its  holy  impression — "Unto 
whomsoever  much  is  given,  much  will  be  required."  While 
we  acknowledge,  that  the  thoughts  might  be  better  employed 
m  preparing  for  those  humiliations  of  the  spirit  and  thanks- 
giving of  the  heart  which  are  required  of  all,  and  are  so 
necessary  to  all,  we  must  be  indulged  in  a  hasty  view  of  some 
of  the  personages  of  our  history,  as  they  entered  the  church 

of  B . 

.  On  the  countenance  of  the  baronet,  was  the  dignity  and 
composure  of  a  mind  at  peace  with  itself  and  mankind.  His 
step  was  rather  more  deHberate  than  common;  his  eye  rested 
on  the  pavement,  and  on  turning  into  his  pew,  as  he  prepared 
to  kneel,  in  the  first  humble  petition  of  our  beautiful  service, 
he  raised  it  towards  the  altar  with  an  expression  of  benevo- 
lence and  reverence,  that  spoke  contentment,  not  unmixed 
with  faith 


64  PRECAUnON. 

In  the  demeanor  of  Lady  Moseley,  all  was  graceful  and 
decent,  while  nothing  could  be  properly  said  to  be  studied. 
•She  followed  her  husband  with  a  step  of  equal  deliberation, 
though  it  was  slightly  varied  by  a  manner  which,  while  it 
ppeared  natural  to  herself,  might  have  been  artificial  in 
another :  a  cambric  handkerchief  concealed  her  face  as  she 
sank  composedly  by  the  side  of  Sir  Edward,  in  a  style  which 
showed,  that  while  she  remembered  her  Maker,  she  had  not 
entirely  forgotten  herself. 

The  walk  of  Mrs.  Wilson  was  quicker  than  that  of  her 
Bister.  Her  eye,  directed  before  her,  was  fixed,  as  if  in  settled 
gaze,  on  that  eternity  which  she  was  approaching.  The  lines 
of  her  contemplative  face  were  unaltered,  unless  there  might 
be  ti-aced  a  deeper  shade  of  humility  than  was  ordinarily  seen 
on  her  pale,  but  expressive  countenance :  her  petition  was 
long ;  and  on  rising  from  her  humble  posture,  the  person 
was  indeed  to  be  seen,  but  the  soul  appeared  absorbed  in 
contemplations  beyond  the  limits  of  this  sphere. 

There  was  a  restlessness  and  varying  of  color,  in  the 
ordinarily  placid  Clara,  which  prevented  a  display  of  her 
usual  manner;  while  Jane  walked  gracefully,  and  with  a 
tincture  of  her  mother's  manner,  by  her  side.  She  stole  one 
hastily  withdrawn  glance  to  the  deanery  pew  ere  she  kneeled, 
and  then,  on  rising,  handed  her  smelling-bottle  affectionately 
to  her  elder  sister. 

Emily  glided  behind  her  companions  with  a  face  beaming 
with  a  look  of  innocence  and  love.  As  she  sank  in  the  act 
of  supplication,  the  rich  glow  of  her  healthful  cheek  lost  some 
of  its  brilliancy ;  but,  on  rising,  it  beamed  with  a  renewed 
lustre,  that  plainly  indicated  a  heart  touched  with  the  sanctity 
)f  its  situation. 

In  the  composed  and  sedate  mannei^  of  Mr.  Jarvis,  as  he 
iteadily  pursued  his  way  to  the  pew  of  Sir  William  Harris, 


PRECAUTION.  65 

you  might  have  been  justified. in  expecting  the  entrance  of 
another  Sir  Edward  Moseley  in  substance,  if  not  in  externals. 
But  tlie  deliberate  sepai-ation  of  the  flaps  of  his  coat,  as  he 
comfortably  seated  himself,  when  you  thought  him  about  to 
kneel,  followed  by  a  pinch  of  snuff  as  he  threw  his  eye 
around  the  building,  led  you  at  once  to  conjecture,  that  what 
t  first  had  been  mistaken  for  reverence,  was  the  abstraction 
of  some  earthly  calculation ;  and  that  his  attendance  was  in 
compliance  with  custom,  and  not  a  little  depended  upon  the 
thickness  of  his  cushions,  and  the  room  he  found  for  the 
disposition  of  two  rather  unwieldy  legs. 

The  ladies  of  the  family  followed,  in  garments  carefully 
selected  for  the  advantageous  display  of  their  persons.  As 
they  sailed  into  their  seats,  where  it  would  seem  the  imj^rovi- 
dence  of  Sir  WiUiam's  steward  had  neglected  some  important 
accommodation  (some  time  being  spent  in  preparation  to  be 
seated),  the  old  lady,  w^hose  size  and  fleoh  really  put  kneeling 
out  of  the  question,  bent  forward  for  a  moment  at  an  angle 
of  eighty  with  the  honzon,  while  her  daughters  prettily  bowed 
their  heads,  with  all  proper  precaution  for  the  safety  of  their 
superb  millinery. 

At  length  the  rector,  accompanied  by  his  son,  appeared 
from  the  vestry.  There  was  a  dignity  and  solemnity  in  the 
manner  in  which  this  pious  divine  entered  on  the  duties  of 
his  profession,  which  disposed  the  heart  to  listen  with  reve^ 
rence  and  humihty  to  precepts  that  were  accompanied  with 
so  impressive  an  exterior.  The  stillness  of  expectation  per 
vaded  the  church,  when  the  pew  opener  led  the  way  to  the 
same  interesting  father  and  son  whose  entrance  had  inter* 
rupted  the  guests  the  preceding  day,  at  the  rectory.  Every 
eye  was  turned  on  the  emaciated  parent,  bending  into  th« 
grave,  and,  as  it  were,  kept  from  it  by  the  supporting  tender- 
ness  of  his  child.     Hastily  throwing  open  the  door  of  hei 


66  PRECAUTION. 

Dwn  pew,  Mrs.  Ives  buried  ber  face  in  her  handkerchief ;  and 
her  husband  had  proceeded  far  in  the  morning  service  before 
she  raised  it  again  to  the  view  of  the  congregation.  In  the 
voice  of  the  rector,  there  was  an  unusual  softness  and  tremor 
that  his  people  attributed  to  tlie  feehngs  of  a  father  about  to 
witness  the  first  efforts  of  an  only  child,  but  which  in  reality 
were  owing  to  another  and  a  deeper  cause. 

Prayers  were  ended,  and  the  younger  Ives  ascended  the 
pulpit.  For  a  moment  he  paused ;  when,  casting  an  anxious 
glance  to  the  pew  of  the  baronet,  he  commenced  his  sermon. 
He  had  chosen  for  his  discourse  the  necessity  of  placing  our 
dependence  on  divine  grace.  After  having  learnedly,  but  in 
the  most  unaffected  manner,  displayed  the  necessity  of  this 
dependence,  as  derived  from  revelation,  he  proceeded  to  paint 
the  hope,  the  resignation,  the  felicity  of  a  Christian's  death- 
bed. Warmed  by  the  subject,  his  animation  soon  lent  a 
heightened  interest  to  his  language  ;  and  at  a  moment  w^hen 
ail  around  him  were  entranced  by  the  eloquence  of  the 
youthful  divine,  a  sudden  and  deep-drawn  sigh  drew  every 
eye  to  the  rector's  pew.  The  younger  stranger  sat  motionless 
as  a  statue,  holding  in  his  arms  the  hfeless  body  of  his 
parent,  who  had  fallen  that  moment  a  corpse  by  his  side. 
All  was  now  confusion :  the  almost  insensible  young  man 
was  relieved  from  his  burden ;  and,  led  by  the  rector,  they 
left  the  church.  The  congregation  dispersed  in  silence,  or 
assembled  in  little  groups,  to  converse  on  the  awful  event 
they  had  witnessed.  None  knew  the  deceased ;  he  was  the 
rector's  friend,  and  to  his  residence  the  body  was  removed. 
The  young  man  was  evidently  his  child ;  but  here  all  infor- 
mation ended.  They  had  arrived  in  a  private  chaise,  but 
with  post  horses,  and  without  attendants.  Their  arrival  at 
the  parsonage  was  detailed  by  the  Jarvis  ladies  with  a  few 
exaggerations  that  gave  additional  interest  k)  the  whole  event, 


PRECAUTION.  U7 

and  which,  by  creating  an  impression  with  som".  -whom 
gentler  feeHngs  would  not  have  restrained,  that  there  was 
something  of  mystery  about  them,  prevented  many  distress- 
ing questions  to  the  Ives's,  that  the  baronet's  femily  forbore 

putting,  on  the  score  of  delicacy.     The  body  left  B at 

the  close  of  the  week,  accompanied  by  Francis  Ives  and  the 
unweariedly  attentive  and  interesting  son.  .  The  doctor  and 
bis  wife  went  into  deep  mourning,  and  Clara  received  a  short 
note  from  her  lover,  on  the  morning  of  their  departure, 
acquainting  her  with  his  intended  absence  for  a  month,  but 
throwing  no  light  upon  the  affair.  The  London  papers,  how- 
ever, contained  the  following  obituary  notice,  and  w^hich,  as 
it  could  refer  to  no  other  person,  as  a  matter  of  course,  was 
supposed  to  allude  to  the  rector's  friend. 

**  Died,  suddenly,  at  B ,  on  the  20th  instant,  George 

Derbigh,  Esq.,  aged  63." 


68     *  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

During  the  week- of  mourning,  the  intercourse  between 
Moseley  Hall  and  the  rectory  was  confined  to  messages  and 
notes  of  inquiry  after  each  other's  welfare :  but  the  visit  of 
the  Moseleys  to  the  deanery  had  been  returned  ;  and  the  day 
after  the  appearance  of  the  obituary  paragraph,  the  family  of 
the  latter  dined  by  invitation  at  the  Hall.  Colonel  Egerton 
had  recovered  the  use  of  his  leg,  and  was  included  in  the 
party.  Between  this  gentleman  and  Mr.  Benfield  there 
appeared,  from  the  first  moment  of.  their  introduction,  a 
repugnance  which  was  rather  increased  by  time,  and  which 
the  old  gentleman  manifested  by  a  demeanor  loaded  with  the 
overstrained  ceremony  of  the  day,  and  which,  in  the  colonel, 
only  showed  itself  by  avoiding,  when  possible,  all  intercourse 
with  the  object  of  his  aversion.  Both  Sir  Edward  and  Lady 
Moseley,  on  the  contrary,  were  not  slow  in  manifesting  their 
favorable  impressions  in  behalf  of  the  gentleman.  The  latter, 
in  particular,  having  ascertained  to  her  satisfaction  that  he 
was  the  undoubted  heir  to  the  title,  and  most  probably  to  the 
estates  of  his  uncle,  Sir  Edgar  Egerton,  felt  herself  strongly 
disposed  to  encourage  an  acquaintance  she  found  so  agree- 
iable,  and  to  which  she  could  see  no  reasonable  objection 
Captain  Jarvis,  who  was  extremely  oflfensive  to  her,  from  hi 
vulgar  familiarity,  she  barely  tolerated,  from  the  necessity  of 
being  civil,  and  keeping  up  sociability  in  the  neighborhood 
It  is  true,  she  could  not  help  being  surprised,  that  a  gentleman, 
as  polished  as  the  colonel,  could  find  any  pleasure  in  an 
associate  like  his  friend,  or  even  in  the  hardly  more  softened 


PRECAUTION.  69 

females  of  his  family ;  then  again,  the  flattering  suggestion 
would  present  itself,  that  possibly  he  might  have  seen  Emily 
at  Bath,  or  Jane  elsewhere,  and  availed  himself  of  the 
acquaintance  of  young  Jarvis  to  get  into  their  neighborhood. 
Lady  Moseley  had  never  been  vain,  or  much  interested  about 
the  disposal  of  her  own  person,  previously  to  her  attachment 
to  her  husband :  but  her  daughters  called  forth  not  a  little 
of  her  natural  pride — we  had  almost  said  of  her  selfishness. 

The  attentions  of  the  colonel  were  of  the  most  delicate  and 
insinuating  kind  ;  and  Mrs.  Wilson  several  times  turned  away 
in  displeasure  at  herself,  for  listening  with  too  much  satisfac- 
tion to  nothings,  uttered  in  an  agreeable  manner,  or,  what 
was  worse,  false  sentiments  supported  with  the  gloss  of  lan- 
guage and  a  fascinating  deportment.  The  anxiety  of  this 
lady  on  behalf  of  Emily  kept  her  ever  on  the  alert,  when 
chance,  or  any  chain  of  circumstances,  threw  her  in  the  way 
of  forming  new  connexions  of  any  kind  ;  and  of  late,  as  her 
charge  approached  the  period  of  life  her  sex  were  apt  to  make 
that  choice  from  which  there  is  no  retreat,  her  solicitude  to 
examine  the  characters  of  the  men  who  approached  her  was 
really  painful.  As  to  Lady  Moseley,  her  wishes  disposed  her 
to  be  easily  satisfied,  and  her  mind  naturally  shrank  from  an 
investigation  to  which  she  felt  herself  unequal ;  while  Mrs. 
Wilson  was  governed  by  the  convictions  of  a  sound  discretion, 
matured  by  long  and  deep  reasoning,  all  acting  on  a  temper 
at  all  times  ardent,  and  a  watchfulness  calculated  to  endure 
to  the  end. 

'*  Pray,  my  lady,"  said  Mrs.  Jarvis,  with  a  look  of  some- 
thing like  importance,  *'  have  you  made  any  discovery  about 
this  Mr.  Denbigh,  who  died  in  the  church  lately  ?" 

"  I  did  not  know,  ma'am,"  replied  Lady  Moseley,  "  there 
was  any  discovery  to  be  made." 

"  You  know,  Lady  Moseley,"  said  Colonel  Egerton,  "  that 


70  PRECAUTION. 

in  town,  all  the  little  accompaniments  of  such  a  melancholy 
death  would  have  found  their  way  into  the  prints  ♦  and  1 
suppose  this  is  what  Mrs.  Jarvis  alludes  to." 

"  Oh  yes,"  cried  Mrs.  Jarvis,  "  the  colonel  is  right."  Bu 
the  colonel  was  always  right  with  that  lady. 

Lady  Moseley  bowed   her  head  with   dignity,   and  the 

olonel  had  too  much  tact  to  pursue  the  conversation;    but 

the  captain,  whom  nothing  had  ever  yet  abashed,  exclaimed, 

**  These  Denbighs  could  not  be  people  of  much  importance 
—I  have  never  heard  the  name  before." 

"  It  is  the  family  name  of  the  Duke  of  Derwent,  I  believe," 
dryly  remarked  Sir  Edward. 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  neither  the  old  man  nor  his  son  looked 
much  like  a  duke,  or  so  much  as  an  officer  either,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Jarvis,  who  thought  the  latter  rank  the  dignity  in  degree 
next  below  nobility.  • 

"  There  sat,  in  the  parliament  of  this  realm,  when  I  was  a 
member,  a  General  Denbigh,"  said  Mr.  Benfield,  with  his 
usual  deliberation ;  "  he  was  always  on  the  same  side  with 
Lord  Gosford  and  myself.  He  and  his  friend.  Sir  Peter 
Howell,  who  was  the  admiral  that  took  the  French  squadron, 
in  the  glorious  administration  of  Billy  Pitt,  and  afterwards 
took  an  island  with  this  same  General  Denbigh  :  aye,  the  old 
admiral  was  a  hearty  blade  ;  a  good  deal  such  a  looking  man 
as  my  Hector  would  make." 
I    Hector  was  Mr.  Benfield's  bull-  dog. 

"  Mercy,"  whispered  John  to  Clara,  "  that's  your  grand 
father  that  is  to  be  uncle  Benfield  is  speaking  of." 

Clara  smiled,  as  she  ventured  to  say,  ''  Sir  Peter  was  Mi-s. 
Ives's  father,  sir." 

"  Indeed !"  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  look  of  surprise 
"  I  never  knew  that  before ;  1  cannot  say  they  resemble  each 
other  much." 


PRECAUTION.  71 

"Prav,  uncle,  does  Frank  look  much  like  the  family?'' 
asked  John,  with  an  air  of  unconquerable  gravity. 

"But,  sir,"  interrupted  Emily,  "were  General  Denbigh  and 
Admiral  Howell  related  ?" 

"  Not  that  I  ever  knew,  Emmy  dear.  Sir  Frederick  Den- 
bigh did  not  look  much  like  the  admiral ;  he  rather  resembled 
(^•athering  himself  up  into  an  air  of  formality,  and  bowing 
B  Iffly  to  Colonel  Egerton)  this  gentleman,  here." 

"  I  have  not  the  honor  of  the  connexion,"  observed  the 
colonel,  withdrawing  behind  the  chair  of  Jane. 

Mrs.  Wilson  changed  the  conversation  to  one  more  general ; 
but  the  little  that  had  fallen  from  Mr.  Benfield  gave  reason 
for  beheving  a  connexion,  in  some  way  of  which  they  were 
ignorant,  existed  between  the  descendants  of  the  two  veterans, 
and  which  explained  the  interest  they  felt  in  each  other. 

During  dinner.  Colonel  Egerton  placed  himself  next  to 
Emily,  and  Miss  Jarvis  took  the  chair  on  the  other  side.  He 
spoke  of  the  gay  world,  of  watering-places,  novels,  plays,  and 
still  finding  his  companion  reserved,  and  either  unwilling  or 
unable  to  talk  freely,  he  tried  his  favorite  sentiment.  He  had 
read  poetrj^  and  a  remark  of  his  lighted  up  a  spark  of  intelli- 
gence in  the  beautiful  face  of  his  companion  that  for  a  moment 
deceived  him ;  but  as  he  went  on  to  point  out  his  favorite 
beauties,  it  gave  place  to  a  settled  composure,  which  at  last 
led  him  to  imagine  the  casket  contained  no  gem  equal  to  the 
pomise  of  its  brilliant  exterior.  After  resting  from  one  of 
iis  most  labored  displays  of  feeling  and  imagery,  he  acci- 
dentally caught  the  eyes  of  Jane  fastened  on  him  with  an 
expression  of  no  dubious  import,  and  the  soldier  changed  his 
battery.  In  Jane  he  found  a  more  willing  auditor ;  poetry 
was  the  food  she  lived  on,  and  in  works  of  the  imagination 
she  found  her  greatest  delight.  An  animated,  discussion  of 
the  merits  of  then-  favorite  authors  now  took  place ;  to  renew 


72  FRKCiJTION. 

which,  the  colonel  early  left  the  dining-room  for  the  society 
of  the  ladies ;  John,  wh-o  disliked  drinking  excessively,  being 
happy  of  an  excuse  to  attend  him. 

The  vouno-er  ladies  had  clustered  too-ether  round  a  window 

JO  C 

and  even  Emily  in  her  heart  rejoiced  that  the  gentlemen  ha^ 
come  to  relieve  herself  and  sisters  from  the  arduous  task  of 
entertaining  women  who  appeared  not  to  possess  a  singl 
taste  or  opinion  in  common  with  themselves. 

"  You  were  saying,  Miss  Moseley,"  observed  the  colonel  in 
his  most  agreeable  manner,  as  he  approached  them,  "  you 
thought  Campbell  the  most  musical  poet  we  Kave ;  I  hope 
you  will  unite  with  me  in  excepting  Moore." 

Jane  colored,  as  with  some  awkwardness  she  replied, 
"  Moore  was  certainly  very  poetical." 

"  Has  Moore  written  much  ?"  innocently  asked  Emily. 

"  Not  half  as  much  as  he  ought,"  cried  Miss  Jarvis.  "Oh! 
I  could  live  on  his  beautiful  lines." 

Jane  turned  away  in  disgust ;  and  that  evening,  while 
alone  with  Clara,  she  took  a  volume  of  Moore's  songs,  and 
very  coolly  consigned  them  to  the  flames.  Her  sister  natu- 
rally asked  an  explanation  of  so  extraordinary  a  procedure. 

"  Oh !''  cried  Jane,  "  I  can't  abide  the  book,  since  that 
vulgar  Miss  Jarvis  speaks  of  it  with  so  much  interest.  I  really 
believe  aunt  Wilson  is  right  in  not  suffering  Emily  to  read 
such  things."  And  Jane,  who  had  often  devoured  the 
treacherous  lines  with  ardor,  shrank  with  fastidious  delicacy 
from  the  indulgence  of  a  perverted  taste,  when  it  became 
exposed,  coupled  with  the  vulgarity  of  unblushing  audacity. 

Colonel  Egerton  immediately  changed  the  subject  to  one 
less  objectionable,  and  spoke  of  a  campaign  he  had  made  in 
Spain.  He  possessed  the  happy  faculty  of  giving  an  interest 
to  all  he  advanced,  whether  true  or  not ;  and  as  he  never 
contradicted,  or  even  opposed  unless  to  yield  gracefully,  wljen 


PKECAUTION.  TS 

a  ladv  was  his  opponent,  liis  conversation  insensibly  attracted, 
by  putting  the  sex  in  good  humor  with  themselves.  Such  a 
iTirtfi,  aided  by  the  powerful  assistants  of  person  and  manners, 
and  no  inconsiderable  colloquial  talents,  Mrs.  Wilson  knew  to 
be  extremely  dangerous  as  a  companion  to  a  youthful  female 
heart ;  and  as  his  visit  was  to  extend  to  a  couple  of  months, 
she  resolved  to  reconnoitre  the  state  of  her  pupil's  opinion 
forthwith  in  reference  to  his  merits.  She  had  taken  t«jO 
much  pains  in  forming  the  mind  of  Emily  to  apprehend  she 
would  fall  a  victim  to  the  eye ;  but  she  also  knew  that  per- 
sonal grace  sweetened  a  benevolent  expression,  and  added 
force  even  to  the  oracles  of  wisdom.  She  labored  a  little 
herself  under  the  disadvantage  of  what  John  called  a  didactio 
manner,  and  which,  although  she  had  not  the  ability,  or 
rather  taste,  to  amend,  she  had  yet  the  sense  to  discern.  It 
was  the  great  error  of  Mrs.  Wilson  to  attempt  to  convince, 
where  she  might  have  influenced ;  but  her  ardor  of  tempera- 
ment, and  great  love  of  truth,  kept  her,  as  it  were,  tilting  with 
the  vices  of  mankind,  and  consequently  sometimes  in  unpro 
•fitable  combat.  With  her  charge,  however,  this  could  never 
be  said  to  be  the  case,  Emily  knew  her  heart,  felt  her  love, 
and  revered  her  principles  too  deeply,  to  throw  away  an 
admonition,  or  disregard  a  precept,  that  fell  from  hps  she 
knew  never  spoke  idly  or  without  consideration. 

John  had  felt  tempted  to  push  the  conversation  with  Miss 
Jarvis,  and  he  was  about  to  utter  something  rapturous 
respecting  the  melodious  poison  of  Little's  poems,  as  the  blue 
eye  of  Emily  rested  on  him  in  the  fulness  of  sisterly  affection 
and  checking  his  love  of  the  ridiculous,  he  quietly  yielded  to 
his  respect  for  the  innocence  of  his  sisters ;  and,  as  if  eager 
to  draw  the  attention  of  all  from  the  hateful  subject,  he  put 
question  after  question  to  Egerton  concerning  the  Spaniards 
eir  customs. 

4 


74  PRECAUTIO?r. 

"  D'd  yoM  ever  meet  Lord  Pendennyss  in  Spain,  Colonel 
Egerton  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Wilson,  with  interest. 

"  Never,  madam,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  much  reason  to 
regret  that  our  service  lay  in  different  parts  of  the  country ; 
his  lordship  was  much  with  the  duke,  and  I  made  the  cam- 
paign under  Marshal  Beresford." 

Emily  left  the  group  at  the  window,  and  taking  a  seat  on 
the  sofa  by  the  side  of  her  aunt,  insensibly  led  her  to  forget 
the  gloomy  thoughts  which  had  begun  to  steal  over  her; 
which  the  colonel,  approaching  where  they  sat,  continued,  by 
asking — 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  the  earl,  madam  ?" 

"  Not  in  person,  but  by  character,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  in  a 
melancholy  manner, 

"  His  character  as  a  soldier  was  very  high.  He  had  no 
superior  of  his  years  in  Spain,  I  am  told." 

No  reply  was  made  to  this  remark,  and  Emily  endeavored 
anxiously  to  draw  the  mind  of  her  aunt  to  reflections  of  a  more 
agreeable  nature.  The  colonel,  whose  vigilance  to  please 
was  ever  on  the  alert,  kindly  aided  her,  and  they  soon  suc- 
ceeded. 

The  merchant  withdrew,  with  his  family  and  guest,  in 
proper  season :  and  Mrs.  Wilson,  heedful  of  her  duty,  took 
the  opportunity  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  privacy  in  her  own 
dressing-room  in  the  evening,  to  touch  gently  on  the  subject 
of  the  gentlemen  they  had  seen  that  day. 

"  How  are  you  pleased,  Emily,  with  your  new  acquaint 
ances  ?"  familiarly  commenced  Mrs.  Wilson. 

**  Oh !  aunt,  don't  ask  me  ;  as  John  says,  they  are  net 
indeed." 

"  I  am  not  sorry,"  continued  the  aunt,  "  to  have  you  ob- 
serve more  closely  than  you  have  been  used  to  the  manners 
of  such  women  as  the  Jarvises ;  they  are  too  abrupt  and 


PRECAUTION. 


75 


Qnpleasant  to  create  a  dread  of  any  imitation ;  but  the  gen- 
tlemen are  heroes  in  very  different  styles." 

••  Different  from  each  other,  indeed." 

"  To  which  do  you  give  the  preference,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Preference,  aunt !"  said  her  niece,  with  a  look  of  asto- 
nishment; "preference  is  a  strong  word  for  either;  but  I 
rather  think  the  captain  the  most  eligible  companion  of  the 
two.  I  do  believe  you  see  the  worst  of  him ;  and  although 
I  acknowledge  it  to  be  bad  enough,  he  might  amend ;  but  the 
colonel" — 

"  Go  on,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson. 

"  Why,  everything  about  the  colonel  seems  so  seated,  so 
ingrafted  in  his  nature,  so — so  very  self-satisfied,  that  I  am 
afraid  it  would  be  a  difficult  task  to  take  the  first  step  in 
amendment — to  convince  him  of  its  necessity?  . 

"  And  is  it  then  so  necessary  ?" 

Einily  looked  up  from  arranging  Bom^  laces,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  surprise,  ass  he  replied  : 

•*  Did  you  not  hear  him  talk  of  those  poems,  and  attempt 
to  point  out  the  beauties  of  several  works  ?  I  thought  every- 
thing he  uttered  was  referred  to  taste,  and  that  not  a  very 
natural  one  ;  at  least,"  she  added  with  a  laugh,  "  it  differed 
greatly  from  mine.  He  seemed  to  forget  altogether  there 
was  such  a  thing  as  principle :  and  then  he  spoke  of  some 
woman  io  Jane,  who  had  left  her  father  for  her  lover,  with  so 
much  admiration  of  her  feehngs,  to  take  up  with  poverty  and 
love,  as  he  called  it,  in  place  of  condemning  her  want  of  filial 
piety — I  am  sure,  aunt,  if  you  had  heard  that,  you  would  not 
admire  him  so  much." 

"  I  do  not  admire  him  at  all,  child ;  I  only  want  to  know 
your  sentiments,  and  I  am  happy  to  find  them  so  correct.  It 
is  as  you  think ;  Colonel  Egerton  appears  to  refer  nothing  to 
principle :  even  the  more  generous  feelings  I  am  afraid  are 


76  PRECAUTION. 

corrupted  in  him,  from  too  low  intercourse  with  the  surface 
of  society.  There  is  by  far  too  much  pliability  about  him  for 
principle  of  any  kind,  unless  indeed  it  be  a  principle  to  please, 
no  matter  how.  No  one,  who  has  deeply  seated  opinions  of 
right  and  wrong,  will  ever  abandon  them,  even  in  the  courte 
sies  of  polite  intercourse  :  they  may  be  silent  but  never  acqui- 
escent :  in  short,  my  dear,  the  dread  of  oflfending  our  Maker 
ought  to  be  so  superior  to  that  of  offending  our  fellow  crea- 
tures, that  we  should  endeavor,  I  believe,  to  be  even  more 
unbending  to  the  follies  of  the  world  than  we  are." 

"  And  yet  the  colonel  is  what  they  call  a  good  companion 
— I  mean  a  pleasant  one." 

"  In  the  ordinary  meaning  of  the  words,  he  is  certainly,  my 
dear ;  yet  you  soon  tire  of  sentiments  which  will  not  stand 
the  test  of  examination,  and  of  a  manner  you  cannot  but  see 
is  artificial.  He  may  do  very  well  for  a  companion,  but  \ery 
ill  for  a  friend  ;  in  short,  Colonel  Egerton  has  neither  been 
satisfied  to  yield  to  his  natural  impressions,  nor  to  obtain  new 
ones  from  a  proper  source ;  he  has  copied  from  bad  models, 
and  his  work  must  necessarily  be  imperfect." 

Kissing  her  niece,  Mrs.  Wilson  then  retired  into  her  own 
room,  with  the  happy  assurance  that  she  had  not  labored  in 
vain  ;  but  that,  with  divine  aid,  she  had  implanted  a  guide  in 
the  bosom  of  her  charge  that  could  not  fail,  with  ordinary 
care,  to  le^d  her  straight  through  the  devious  path  of  female 
duties. 


PRECAUTION. 


11 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  MONTH  now  passed  in  the  ordinary  occupations  and 
»nQusem'^nts  of  a  co^iitry  life,  during  which  both  Lady 
Moseley  and  Jane  -manifested  a  desire  to  keep  up  the  deanery 
acquaintance,  that  surprised  Emily  a  little,  who  had  ever  seen 
her  mother  shrink  from  communications  with  those  whose 
breeding  subjected  her  own  delicacy  to  the  little  shocks  she 
could  but  ill  conceal.  In  Jane  this  desire  was  still-  more  in- 
explicable ;  for  Jane  had,  in  a  decided  way  very  common  to 
her,  avowed  her  disgust  of  the  manners  of  their  new  associ- 
ates at  the  commencement  of  the  acquaintance ;  and  yet  Jane 
would  now  even  quit  her  own  society  for  that  of  Miss  Jarvis, 
especially  if  Colonel  Egerton  happened  to  be  of  the  party 
The  innocence  of  Emily  prevented  her  scanning  the  motives 
for  the  conduct  of  her  sister ;  and  she  set  seriously  about  an 
examination  into  her  own  deportment  to  find  the  latent  cause, 
in  order,  wherever  an  opportunity  should  offer,  to  evince  her 
regret,  had  it  been  her  misfortune  to  have  erred  by  the  ten- 
derness  of  her  own  manner. 

For  a  short  time  the  colonel  seemed  at  a  loss  where  to  make 
his  choice ;  but  a  few  days  determined  him,  and  Jane  was 
evidently  the  favorite.  It  is  true,  that  in  the  presence  of  tho 
arvis  ladies  he  was  more  guarded  and  general  in  his  atteu- 
fons ;  but  as  John,  from  a  motive  of  charity,  had  taken  the 
direction  of  the  captain's  sports  into  his  own  hands  ;  and  as 
they  w^ere  in  the  frequent  habit  of  meeting  at  the  llall  pre- 
paratory to  their  morning  excursion,  the  colonel  suddenly 
became   a  sportsman.     The  ladies  would   often  accompany 


78     ■  PRECAUTION. 

them  in  their  mornrng  excursions ;  and  as  John  would  cer- 
tainly  be  a  baronet,  and  the  colonel  might  not  if  his  uncle 
married,  he  had  the  comfort  of  being  sometimes  ridden,  as 
well  as  of  riding.  / 

One  morning,  having  all  prepared  for  an  excursion  on 
horseback,  as  they  stood  at  the  door  ready  to  mount,  Francis 
Tves  drove  up  in  his  father's  gig,  and  for  a  moment  arrested 
the  party.  Francis  was  a  favorite  with  the  whole  Mose- 
ley  family,  and  their  greetings  were  warm  and  sincere.  He 
found  they  meant  to  take  the  rectory  in  their  ride,  and  in- 
sisted that  they  should  proceed.  "  Clara  would  take  a  seal 
with  him."  As  he  spoke,  the  cast  of  his  countenance  brought 
the  color  into  the  cheeks  of  his  intended ;  she  suffered  herself, 
however,  to  be  handed  into  the  vacant  seat  in  the  gig,  and 
they  moved  on.  John,  who  was  at  the  bottom  good-natured, 
and  loved  both  Francis  and  Clara  very  sincerely,  soon  set 
Captain  Jarvis  and  his  sister  what  he  called  "  scrub  racing," 
and  necessity,  in  some  measure,  compelled  the  rest  of  the 
equestrians  to  hard  riding,  in  order  to  keep  up  with  the 
sports. 

"  That  will  do,  that  will  do,"  cried  John,  casting  his  eye 
back,  and  perceiving  they  had  lost  sight  of  the  gig,  and  nearly 
so  of  Colonel  Egerton  and  Jane,  **  why  you  carry  it  off  like  a 
jockey,  captain ;  better  than  any  amateur  I  have  ever  seen, 
unless  indeed  it  be  your  sister." 

The  lady,  encouraged  by  his  commendations,  whipped  on, 
followed  by  her  brother  and  sister  at  half  speed. 

"  There,  Emily,"  said  John,  quietly  dropping  by  her  side 
"  I  see  no  reason  you  and  I  should  break  our  necks,  to  show 
the  blood  of  our  horses.  Now  do  you  know  I  think  we  are 
going  to  have  a  wedding  in  the  family  soon  ?" 

Emily  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  Frank  has  got  a  living ;  I  saw  it  the  moment  he  drove 


PRFX'AUTIOX.  79 

up.     He  came  in  like  somebody.     Yes,  I  dare  say  he  Las 
calculated  the  tithes  already  a  dozen  times." 

John  was  right.  The  Earl  of  Bolton  had,  imsolicited, 
piven  him  the  desired  living  of  his  own  parish ;  and  Francis 
was  dt  the  moment  pressing  the  blushing  Clara  to  fix  the  day 
that  was  to  put  a  period  to  his  long  probation.  Clara,  who 
liad  not  a  particle  of  coquetry  about  her,  promised  to  be  h's 
as  soon  as  he  was  inducted,  an  event  that  was  to  take  plac;^ 
the  following  week  ;  and  then  followed  those  delightful  little 
arrangements  and  plans  with  which  youthful  hope  is  so  fond 
of  filling  up  the  void  of  life. 

"  Doctor,"  said  John,  as  he  came  out  of  the  rectory  to 
assist  Clara  from  the  gig,  "  the  parson  here  is  a  careful  driver  ; 
see,  he  has  not  turned  a  hair." 

He  kissed  the  burning  cheek  of  his  sister  as  she  touched 
the  ground,  and  whispered  significantly. 

"  You  need  tell  me  nothing,  my  dear — 1  know  all — I  con- 
sent." 

Mrs.  Ives  folded  her  future  daughter  to  her  bosom ;  and  the 
benevolent  smile  of  the  good  rector,  together  with  the  kind 
and  affectionate  manner  of  her  sisters,  assured  Clara  the  ap- 
proaching nuptials  were  anticipated,  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Colonel  Egerton  offered  his  compliments  to  Francis  on  his 
preferment  to  the  hving,  with  the  polish  of  high  breeding, 
and  not  without  an  appearance  of  intei'est ;  and  Emily  thought 
him  for  the  first  time  as  handsome  as  he  was  generally  repu*:- 
ed  to  be.  The  ladies  undertook  to  say  something  civil  io 
their  turn,  and  John  put  the  captain,  by  a  hint,  on  the  sam 
track. 

"  You  are  quite  lucky,  sir,"  said  the  captain,  "in  getting 
so  good  a  living  with  so  little  trouble  ;  I  wish  you  joy  of  il 
with  all  my  heart :  Mr.  Moseley  tells  me  it  is  a  capital  thing 
vow  for  a  gentleman  of  your  profession.     For  my  part  1 


80  PRECAUTION. 

prefer  a  scarlet  coat  to  a  black  one,  but  there  must  be  par 
sons  you  know,  or  bow  should  we  get  married  or  say 
grace  ?" 

Francis  thanked  him  for  his  good  wishes,  and  Egerton  paid 

handsome  compliment  to  the  liberality  of  the  earl ;  "  he 
doubted  not  he  found  that  gratification  which  always  attend* 
a  disinterested  act ;"  and  Jane  applauded  the  sentiment  with 
a  smile. 

The  baronet,  when  he  was  made  acquainted  with  the  situ- 
ation of  affairs,  promised  Francis  that  no  unnecessary  delay 
should  intervene,  and  the  marriage  was  happily  arranged  for 
the  following  week.  Lady  Moseley,  when  she  retired  to  the 
drawinof-room  after  dinner,  commenced  a  recital  of  the  cere- 
mony  and  company  to  be  invited  on  the  occasion.  Etiquette 
and  the  decencies  of  life  were  not  only  the  forte,  but  the 
fault  of  this  lady ;  and  she  had  gone  on  to  the  enumeration 
of  about  the  fortieth  personage  in  the  ceremonials,  before 
Clara  found  courage  to  say,  that  "  Mr.  Ives  and  myself  both 
wish  to  be  married  at  the  altar,  and  to  proceed  to  Bolton 
Rectory  immediately  after  the  ceremony."  To  this  her  mo- 
ther warmly  objected;  and  argument  and  respectful  remon-' 
strance  had  followed  each  other  for  some  time,  before  Clara 
submitted  in  silence,  with  difficulty  restraining  her  tears. 
This  appeal  to  the  better  feelings  of  the  mother  triumphed ; 
and  the  love  of  parade  yielded  to  love  of  her  offspring.  Clara, 
with  a  lightened  heart,  kissed  and  thanked  her,  and  accom- 
■)anied  by  Emily  left  the  room  ;  Jane  had  risen  to  folio sv 
them,  but  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  tilbury  of  Colonel  Eger-. 
ton  she  re-seated  herself. 

He  had  merely  driven  over  at  the  earnest  entreaties  of  the 
ladies  to  beg  Miss  Jane  would  accept  a  seat  back  with  him ; 
"they  had  some  little  project  on  foot,  and  could  not  proceed 
without  her  assistance." 


PRECAUTION.  81 

Mrs.  Wilson  looked  gravely  at  her  sister,  as  she  smiled 
acquiescence  to  his  wishes ;  and  the  daughter,  who  but  the 
minute  before  had  forgotten  there  was  any  other  person  in 
the  world  but  Clara,  flew  for  her  hat  and  shawl,  in  order,  as 
he  said  to  herself,  that  the  poMteness  of  Colonel  Egerton 
might  not  keep  him  waiting.  Lady  Moseley  resumed  her 
seat  by  the  side  of  her  sister  with  an  air  of  great  compla 
cency,  as  she  returned  from  the  window,  after  having  seen  lur 
daughter  off.  For  some  time  each  was  occupied  quietly  with 
her  needle,  when  Mrs.  Wilson  suddenly  broke  the  silence  by 
saying : 

"  Who  is  Colonel  Egerton  ?" 

Lady  Moseley  looked  up  for  a  moment  in  amazement,  but 
recollecting  herself,  answered, 

"  The  nephew  and  heir  of  Sir  Edgar  Egerton,  sister." 

This  was  spoken  in  a  rather  positive  way,  as  if  it  were  un- 
ans  werable  ;  yet  as  there  was  nothing  harsh  in  the  reply,  Mrs. 
Wilson  continued, 

"  Do  you  not  think  him  attentive  to  Jane  ?" 

Pleasure  sparkled  in  the  still  brilliant  eyes  of  Lady  Moseley, 
as  she  exclaimed — 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?" 

"  I  do  ;  and  you  will  pardon  me  if  I  say  improperly  so.  I 
think  you  were  wrong  in  sufiering  Jane  to  go  with  him  this 
afternoon." 

"  Why  improperly,  Charlotte  ?  If  Colonel  Egerton  is  polite 
enough  to  show  Jane  such  attentions,  should  I  not  b«  wrong 
*n  rudely  rejecting  them  ?" 

"The  rudeness  of  refusing  a  request  that  is  improper  t 
grant  is  a  very  venial  offence.     I  confess  I  think  it  improper 
to  allow  any  attentions  to  be  forced  on  us  that  may  subject 
us  .  to   disagreeable   consequences ;    but   the   attentions   of 
Colonel  Egerton  are  becoming  marked,  Anne." 

4* 


82  PRECAUTION. 

"  Do  you  for  a  moment  doubt  their  being  honorable,  oi 
that  he  dares  to  trifle  with  a  daughter  of  Sir  Edward 
Moseley?" 

''  I  should  hope  not,  certainly,  although  it  may  be  well  to 
guard  even  against  such  a  misfortune.  But  I  am  of  opinion 
t  is  quite  as  important  to  know  whether  he  is  worthy  to  be 
her  husband  as  it  is  to  know  that  he  is  in  a  situation  to 
become  so." 

"  On  what  points,  Charlotte,  would  you  wish  to  be  more 
assured  ?  You  know  his  birth  and  probable  fortune — you 
see  his  manners  and  disposition  ;  but  these  latter  are  things 
for  Jane  to  decide  on  ;  she  is  to  hve  with  him,  and  it  is  proper 
she  should  be  suited  in  these  respects." 

"  I  do  not  deny  his  fortune  or  his  disposition,  but  I  com- 
plain that  we  give  him  credit  for  the  last,  and  for  still  more 
important  requisites,  without  evidence  of  his  possessing  any 
of  them.  His  principles,  his  habits,  his  very  character,  what 
do  we  know  of  them  ?  I  say  we,  for  you  know,  Anne,  your 
children  are  as  dear  to  me  as  my  own  would  have  been." 

"  I  believe  you  sincerely,  but  the  things  you  mention  are 
points  for  Jane  to  decide  on.  If  she  be  pleased,  I  have  no 
right  to  complain.  I  am  determined  never  to  control  the 
affections  of  my  children." 

"  Had  you  said,  never  to  force  the  affections  of  your  chil- 
dren, you  would  have  said  enough,  Anne ;  but  to  control,  or 
I-  ither  to  guide  the  affections  of  a  child,  especially  a  daughter, 
)';,  in  some  cases,  a  duty  as  imperative  as  it  would  be  to  avert 
:my  other  impending  calamity.  Surely  the  proper  time  to  do 
this  is  before  the  affections  of  the  child  are  Hkely  to  endanger 
her  peace  of  mind." 

"  I  haive  seldom  seen  much  good  result  from  the  inter- 
ference  of  parents,"  said  Lady  Moseley,  a  little  pertinaciously. 

"  True ;    for  to  be  of  use,  unless  in  extraordinary  ca^es,  il 


PRECAUTION.  83 

Btiould  not  be  seen.  You  will  pardon  me,  Anne,  but  I  have 
often  thought  parents  are  too  often  in  extremes — determined 
to  make  the  election  for  their  children,  or  leaving  them 
entirely  to  their  own  vanity  and  inexperience,  to  govern  not 
only  their  own  lives,  but,  I  may  say,  to  leave  an  impression 
on  future  generations.  And,  after  all,  what  is  this  love  1 
In  nineteen  cases  in  twenty  of  what  we  call  affairs  of  the 
leart,  it  would  be  better  to  term  them  aflfairs  of  the  ima- 
gination.'''' 

"  And  is  there  not  a  great  deal  of  imagination  in  all  love?'* 
inquired  Lady  Moseley,  smiling. 

"  Undoubtedly,  there  is  some ;  but  there  is  one  important 
difference :  in  affairs  of  the  imagination,  the  admired  object  is 
gifted  with  all  those  qualities  we  esteem,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  there  is  a  certain  set  of  females  who  are  ever 
ready  to  bestow  this  admiration  on  any  applicant  for  their 
favors  who  may  not  be  strikingjy  objectionable.  The  neces- 
sity of  being  courted  makes  our  sex  rather  too  much  disposed 
to  admire  improper  suitors." 

"  But  how  do  you  distinguish  affairs  of  the  heart,  Char- 
lotte, from  those  of  the  fancy  ?" 

"  When  the  heart  takes  the  lead,  it  is  not  difficult  to  detect 
it.  Such  sentiments  generally  follow  long  intercourse,  and 
opportunities  of  judging  the  real  character.  They  are  the 
only  attachments  that  are  likely  to  stand  the  test  of  worldly 
trials." 

"  Suppose  Emily  to  be  the  object  of  Colonel  Egerton's 
pursuit,  then,  sister,  in  what  manner  would  you  proceed  to 
destroy  the  influence  I  acknowledge  he  is  gaining  ovr 
Jane?" 

"  I  cannot  suppose  such  a  case,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  gravely; 
and  then,  observing  that  her  sister  'ooked  as  if  she  required 
an  explanation,  she  continued — 


84  PRECAUTION. 

"  My  attention  has  been  directed  to  the  forming  of  such 
principles,  and  such  a  taste,  if  I  may  use  the  expression,  under 
those  principles,  that  I  feel  no  apprehension  Emily  will  ever 
allow  her  affections  to  be  ensnared  by  a  man  of  the  opinions 
and  views  of  Colonel  Egerton.  I  am  impressed  with  a  two- 
fold duty  in  watching  the  feelings  of  my  charge.  She  has 
so  much  singleness  of  heart,  such  real  strength  of  native  feel- 
ing, that,  should  an  improper  man  gain  possession  of  her 
affections,  the  struggle  between  her  duty  and  her  love  would 
be  weighty  indeed ;  and  should  it  proceed  so  far  as  to  make 
it  her  duty  to  love  an  unworthy  object,  I  am  sure  she  would 
smk  under  it.  Emily  would  die  in  the  samp  circumstances 
under  which  Jane  would  only  awake  from  a  dieam,  and  be 
wretched." 

"  I  thought  you  entertained  a  better  opinion  of  Jane, 
sister,^'  said  Lady  Moseley,  reproachfully. 

"  I  think  her  admirably  calculated  to  make  an  invaluable 
wife  and  mother ;  but  she  is  so  much  under  the  influence  of 
her  fancy,  that  she  seldom  gives  her  heart  an  opportunity  of 
displaying  its  excellences;  and  again,  she  dwells  so  much 
upon  imaginary  perfections,  that  adulation  has  become 
necessary  to  her.  The  man  who  flatters  her  delicately'  will 
be  sure  to  win  her  esteem ;  and  every  woman  might  love  the 
being  possessed  of  the  qualities  she  will  not  fail  to  endow  him 
with." 

"  1  do  not  know  that  I  rightly  understand  how  you  would 
avert  all  these  sad  consequences  of  improvident  affections  ?'' 
said  Lady  Moseley. 

„  "  Prevention  is  better  than  cure — I  would  first  implant 
uch  opinions  as  would  lessen  the  danger  of  intercourse ;  and 
as  for  particular  attentions  from  improper  objects,  it  should 
be  my  care  to  prevent  them,  by  prohibiting,  or  rather 
impeding,  the  intimacy  which  might  give  rise  to  them.    And, 


PRECAUTION.  '  M 

/east  of  all,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  with  a  friendly  smile,  as  sue 
ro!=e  to  leave  the  room,  "  would  I  suffer  a  fear  of  being 
impolite  to  endanger  the  happiness  of  a  young  womAc 
inti  usted  to  mv  cai*e." 


86  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

Francis,  who  labored  with  the  ardor  of  a  lover,  soon 
completed  the  necessary  arrangements  and  alterations  in  his 
new  parsonage.  The  hving  was  a  good  one,  and  as  the  rector 
was  enabled  to  make  a  very  considerable  annual  allowance 
from  the  private  fortune  his  wife  had  brought  him,  and  as  Sir 
Edward  had  twenty  thousand  pounds  in  the  funds  for  each  of 
his  daughters,  one  poition  of  which  was  immediately  settled 
on  Clara,  the  youthful  couple  had  not  only  a  sufficient,  but  an 
abundant  provision  for  their  station  in  life ;  and  they  entered 
on  their  matrimonial  duties  with  as  good  a  prospect  of  hap- 
piness as  the  ills  of  this  world  can  give  to  health,  affection, 
and  competency.  Their  union  had  been  deferred  by  Dr. 
Ives  until  his  son  was  established,  with  a  view  to  keep  him 
ander  his  own  direc^'ion  during  the  critical  period  of  his  first 
impressions  in  the  priesthood ;  and  as  no  objection  now  re- 
mained, or  rather,  the  only  one  he  ever  felt  was  removed  by 
the  proximity  of  Bolton  to  his  own  parish,  he  now  joyfully 
anited  the  lovers  at  the  altar  of  the  village  church,  in  the 
presence  of  his  wife  and  Clara's  immediate  relatives.  On 
leaving  the  church  Francis  handed  his  bride  into  his  own 
c?rriage,  which  conveyed  them  to  their  new  residence,  amidst 
the  good  wishes  of  his  parishioners,  and  the  prayers  of  thei 
relatives  and  friends.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Ives  retired  to  the  rec- 
tory, to  the  sober  enjoyment  of  the  felicity  of  their  only  child; 
while  the  baronet  and  his  lady  felt  a  gloom  that  belied  all 
the  wishes  of  the  latter  for  the  establishment  of  l*er  daugh- 
ters.    Jane  and  Emily  acted  as  bridesmaids  to  their  sister, 


PKECAUTlOy.  87 

and  as  both  the  former  and  her  mother  had  insisted  there 
should  be  two  gi-oomsmen  as  a  counterpoise,  John  was  em- 
powered with  a  carte-bhmche  to  make  a  provision  accord- 
ingly. At  first  he  intimated  his  intention  of  calling  on  Mr 
Benfield,  but  he  finally  settled  down,  to  the  no  small  morti 
fi cation  of  the  before-mentioned  ladies,  into  writing  a  note  to 
his  kinsman,  Lord  Chatterton,  whose  residence  was  then  in 
London,  and  who  in  reply,  after  expressing  his  sincere  regret 
that  an  accident  would  prevent  his  having  the  pleasure  of 
attending,  stated  the  intention  of  his  mother  and  two  sisters 
to  pay  them  an  early  visit  of  congratulation,  as  soon  as  his 
own  health  would  allow  of  his  travelling.  This  answer  arrived 
only  the  day  preceding  that  fixed  for  the  wedding,  and  at  the 
very  moment  they  were  expecting  his  lordship  in  proper 
person. 

"  There,"  cried  Jane,  in-  triumph,  "  I  told  you  it  was  silly 
to  send  so  .far  on  so  sudden  an  occasion ;  now,  after  all,  what 
is  to  be  done — it  will  be  so  awkward  when  Clara's  friends  call 
to  see  her — Oh  !  John,-  John,  you  aj*e  a  Marplot." 

•'  Jenny,  Jenny,  you  are  a  make-plot,"  said  John,  coolly 
taking  up  his  hat  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Which  way,  my  son  ?"  said  the  baronet,  who  met  him 
at  the  door. 

"To  the  deanery,  sir,  to  try  to  get  Captain  Jarvis  to  act  as 
bridesmaid — I  beg  his  pardon,  groomsman,  to-morrow — 
Chatterton  has  been  thrown  from  a  horse  and  can't  come." 

"John!" 
•      "  Jenny  1" 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Jane,  indignation  glowing  in  her  pretty 
face,  "  that  if  Captain  Jarvis  is  to  be  an  attendant,  Clara  must 
excuse  my  acting.  I  do  not  choose  to  be  associated  with  ■ 
Captain  Jarvis." 

"  John,"  said  his  mother,  with  dignity,  '*  your  trifling  is  un- 


88  rRECAUTION. 

eeasonable ;  certainly  Colonel  Egerton  is  a  more  fitting  person 
on  every  account,  and  I  desire,  under  present  circumstances, 
that  you  ask  the  colonel." 

*'  Your  ladyship's  wishes  are  orders  to  me,"  said  John, 
aily  kissing  his  hand  as  he  left  the  room. 

The  colonel  was  but  too  happy  in  having  it  in  his  power 
to  be  of  service  in  any  manner  to  a  gentleman  he  respected 
as  much  as  Mr.  Francis  Ives.  He  accepted  the  duty,  and 
was  the  only  person  present  at  the  ceremony  who  did  not 
stand  within  the  bonds  of  consanguinity  to  the  parties.  He 
was  invited  by  the  baronet  to  dine  at  the  hall,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  notwithstanding  the  repeated  injunctions  of  Mrs. 
Jarvis  and  her  daughters,  to  return  immediately  with  an  ac- 
count of  the  dress  of  the  bride,  and  with  other  important 
items  of  a  similar  nature,  the  invitation  was  accepted.  On 
reaching  the  hall,  Emily  retired  immediately  to  her  own  room, 
and  at  her  reappearance  when  the  dinner  bell  rang,"  the  pale- 
ness of  her  cheeks  and  the  redness  of  her  eyes  aiforded  suf- 
ficient proof  that  the  translation  o^  a  companion  from  her  own 
to  another  family  was  an  event,  however  happy  in  itself,  not 
unmingled  with  grief.  The  day,  however,  passed  off  tolerably 
well  for  people  who  are  expected  to  be  premeditatedly  happy, 
and  when,  in  their  hearts,  they  are  really  more  disposed  to 
weep  than  to  laugh.  Jane  and  the  colonel  had  most  of  the 
conversation  to  themselves  during  dinner :  even  the  joyous 
and  thoughtless  John  wearing  his  gaiety  in  a  less  gracefu 
manner  than  usual.  He  was  actually  detected  by  his  auit 
in  looking  with  moistened  eyes  at  the  vacant  chair  a  servant 
had,  from  habit,  placed  at  the  table,  in  the  spot  where  Clara 
had  been  accustomed  to  sit. 

"  This  beef  is  not  done,  Saunders,"  said  the  baronet  to  his 
butler,  "  or  my  appetite  is  not  as  good  as  usual  to-day.  CoIouaI 
Egerton,  will  you  allow  me  the  pleasure  of  a  glass  of  sherry  ?" 


PRECAUTION.  89 

The  wine  was  drunk,  and  the  game  succeeded  the  beef; 
but  still  Sir  Edward  could  not  eat. 

"  How  glad  Clara  will  be  to  see  us  all  the  day  after  to- 
morrow," said  Mrs.  Wilson  ;  '*  your  new  housekeepei's  de- 
light in  their  first  efforts  in  entertaining  their  friends." 

Lady  Moseley  smiled  through  her  tears,  and  turning  to  her 
usband  said,  "  We  will  go  early,  my  dear,  that  we  may  see 
t.>e  improvements  Francis  has  been  making  before  we  dine." 
The  baronet  nodded  assent,  but  his  heart  was  too  full  to  speak ; 
and  apologizing  to  the  colonel  for  his  absence,  on  the  plea  of 
some  business  with  his  people,  he  left  the  room. 

All  this  time,  the  attentions  of  Coionel  Egerton  to  both  mo- 
ther  and  daughter  were  of  the  most  delicate  kind.  He  spoke 
of  Clara  as  if  his  office  of  groomsman  entitled  him  to  an  in- 
terest in  her  welftxre ;  with  John  he  was  kind  and  sociable ; 
and  even  Mrs.  Wilson  acknowledged,  after  he  had  taken  his 
leave,  that  he  possessed  a  wonderful  faculty  of  making  him- 
self agreeable,  and  she  began  to  think  that,  under  all  circum- 
stances, he  might  possibly  prove  as  advantageous  a  connexion 
as  Jane  could  expect  to  form.  Had  any  one,  however,  pro- 
posed him  as  a  husband  for  Emily,  affection  would  have 
quickened  her  judgment  in  a  way  that  would  have  urged  her 
to  a  very  different  decision. 

Soon  after  the  baronet  left  the  room,  a  travelling-  carriao'e, 
with  suitable  attendants,  drove  to  the  door ;  the  sound  of  the 
wheels  drew  most  of  the  company  to  a  window.  "  A  baron's 
coronet !"  cried  Jane,  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  ornaments  of 
the  hai-ness. 

"  The  Chattertons,"  echoed  her  brother,  running  out.  of  the 
room  to  meet  them. 

The  mother  of  Sir  Edward  was  a  daughter  of  this  family, 
and  the  sister  of  the  grandfather  of  the  present  lord.  The 
connexion  had  always  been  kept  up  with  a  show  of  cordiality 


do  PRECAUTION. 

between  Sir  Edward  and  his  cousin,  altliougli  their  manner 
of  living  and  habits  were  very  different.  The  baron  was  a 
courtier  and  a  placeman.  His  estates,  which  he  could  not 
alienate,  produced  about  ten  thousand  a  year,  but  the  income 
he  could  and  did  spend ;  and  the  high  perquisites  of  his 
situation  under  government,  amounting  to  as  much  more, 
were  melted  away  year  after  year,  without  making  the  pro- 
vision for  his  daughters  that  his  duty  and  the  observance  of 
his  promise  to  his  wife's  father  required  at  his  hands.  He 
had  been  dead  about  two  years,  and  his  son  found  himself 
saddled  with  the  support  of  an  unjointured  mother  and 
unportioned  sisters.  Money  was  not  the  idol  the  young  lord 
worshipped,  nor  even  pleasure.  He  was  affectionate  to  his 
surviving  parent,  and  his  first  act  was  to  settle,  during  his 
own  life,  two  thousand  a  year  on  her,  while  he  commenced 
setting  aside  as  much  more  for  each  of  his  sisters  annually. 
This  abridged  him  greatly  in  his  own  expenditures;  yet,  as 
ihey  made  but  one  family,  and  the  dowager  was  really  a 
managing  woman  in  more  senses  than  one,  they  made  a  very 
tolerable  figure.  The  son  was  anxious  to  follow  the  example 
of  Sir  Edward  Moseley,  and  give  up  his  town  house,  for  at 
least  a  time ;  but  his  mother  had  exclaimed,  with  something 
like  horror,  at  the  proposal : 

"  Chatterton,  would  you  give  it  up  at  the  moment  it  can 
be  of  the  most  use  to  us "?"  and  she  threw  a  glance  at  her 
daughters  that  would  have  discovered  her  motive  to  Mrs 
Wilson,  which  was  lost  on  her  son ;  he,  poor  soul,  thinkii  g 
she  found  it  convenient  to  support  the  interest  he  had  been 
making  for  the  place  held  by  his  father,  one  of  more  emolu- 
ment than  service,  or  even  honor.  The  contending  parties 
were  so  equally  matched,  that  this  situation  was  kept,  as  it 
were,  in  abeyance,  waiting  the  arrival  of  some  acquisition  of 
interest  to  one  or  other  of  the  claimants.     The  interest  of  the 


PRECAUTION.  91 

peer,  however,  had  begun  to  lose  ground  at  the  period  of 
whicli  we  speak,  and  his  careful  mother  saw  new  moiives  for 
activity  in  providing  for  her  children.  Mrs.  Wilson  herself 
could  not  be  more  vigilant  in  examining  the  candidates  for 
Emily's  favors  than  was  the  dowager  Lady  Chatterton  in 
behalf  of  her  daughter.  It  is  true,  the  task  of  the  former 
lady  was  by  far  the  most  arduous,  for  it  involved  a  study  of 
character  and  development  of  principle ;  while  that  of  the 
latter  would  have  ended  with  the  footing  of  a  rent-roll,  pro- 
vided it  contained  five  figures.  Sir  Edward's  was  well  known 
to  contain  that  number,  and  two  of  them  were  not  ciphers. 
Mr.  Benfield  was  rich,  and  John  Moseley  was  a  very  agree- 
able young  man.  Weddings  are  the  season  of  love,  thought 
the  prudent  dowager,  and  Grace  is  extremely  pretty.  Chat- 
terton, who  never  refused  his  mother  anything  in  his  power 
to  grant,  and  who  was  pai'ticularly  dutiful  when  a  visit  to 
Moseley  Hall  was  in  question,  suffered  himself  to  be  per- 
suaded his  shoulder  was  well,  and  they  had  left  town  the  day 
before  the  wedding,  thinking  to  be  in  time  for  ail  the  gaieties, 
if  not  for  the  ceremony  itself. 

There  existed  but  little  similarity  between  the  persons  and 
manners  of  this  young  nobleman  and  the  baronet's  heir. 
The  beauty  of  Chatterton  was  almost  feminine;  his  skin,  his 
color,  his  eyes,  bis  teeth,  were  such  as  many  a  belle  had 
sighed  after;  and  his  manners  were  bashful  and  retiring. 
Yet  an  intimacy  had  commenced  between  the  boys  at  school, 
which  ripened  into  friendship  between  the  young  men  at 
college,  and  had  been  maintaiiied  ever  since,  pi'obably  as 
much  from  the  contrarieties  of  character  as  from  any  other 
cause.  With  the  baron,  John  Avas  more  sedate  than  ordinary; 
with  John,  Chatterton  found  unusual  animation.  But  a  secret 
charm  which  John  held  over  the  young  peer  was  his  profound 
respect  and  unvarying  affection  for  his  youngest  sister,  Emily 


92  PRECAUTION. 

This  was  common  ground ;  and  no  dreams  of  future  happi- 
ness, no  visions  of  dawning  wealth,  crossed  the  imagination 
of  Chatterton  in  which  Emily  was  not  the  fairy  to  give  birth 
to  the  one,  or  the  benevolent  dispenser  of  the  hoards  of  the 
other. 

The  arrival  of  this  family  was  a  happy  relief  from  the 
oppression  which  hung  on  the  spirits  of  the  Moseleys,  and 
their  reception  marked  with  the  mild  benevolence  which 
belonged  to  the  nature  of  the  baronet,  and  that  impressement 
which  so  eminently  distinguished  the  manners  of  his  wife. 

The  honorable  Misses  Chatterton  were  both  handsome ;  but 
the  younger  was,  if  possible,  a  softened  picture  of  her  brother. 
There  was  the  same  retiring  bashfulness  and  the  same  sweet- 
ness of  temper  as  distinguished  the  baron,  and  Grace  was  the 
peculiar  favorite  of  Emily  Moseley.  Nothing  of  the  strained 
or  sentimental  nature  which  so  often  characterize  what  is 
called  female  friendships,  however,  had  crept  into  the  com- 
munications between  these  young  women.  Emily  loved  her 
sistei-s  too  well  to  go  out  of  her  own  family  for  a  repository 
of  her  griefs  or  a  partaker  in  her  joys.  Had  her  life  been 
chequered  with  such  passions,  her  own  sisters  were  too  near 
her  own  age  to  suffer  her  to  think  of  a  confidence  in  which 
the  holy  ties  of  natural  affection  did  not  give  a  claim  to  a 
participation.  Mrs.  Wilson  had  found  it  necessary  to  give 
her  charge  very  different  views  on  many  subjects  from  those 
which  Jane  and  Clara  had  been  suffered  to  imbibe  of  them- 
elves  ;  but  in  no  degree  had  she  impaired  the  obligations  of 
filial  piety  or  family  concord.  Emily  was,  if  anything,  more 
espectful  to  her  parents,  more  affectionate  to  her  friends, 
than  any  of  her  connexions  ;  for  in  her  the  warmth  of  natural 
feeling  was  heightened  by  an  unvarying  sense  of  duty. 

In  Grace  Chatterton  she  found,  in  many  respects,  a  tempei 
and  taste  resembling  her  own.    She  therefore  loved  her  better 


PRECAUTION.  93 

than  others  who  had  equally  general  claims  on  her  partiality, 
and  as  such  a  friend  she  now  received  her  with  cordial  and 
sincere  affection. 

Jane,  who  had  not  felt  satisfied  with  the  ordering  of  Pro- 
vidence for  the  disposal  of  her  sympathies,  and  had  long  felt 
a^  restlessness  that  prompted  her  to  look  abroad  for  a  confiding 
spirit  to  whom  to  communicate  her — secrets  she  had  none 
that  delicacy  would  suffer  her  to  reveal — but  to  communicate 
her  crude  opinions  and  reflections,  she  had  early  selected 
Catherine  for  this  person.  Catherine,  however,  had  not  stood 
the  test  of  trial.  For  a  short  time  the  love  of  heraldry  kept 
them  together;  but  Jane,  finding  her  companion's  gusto 
limited  to  the  charms  of  the  coronet  and  supporters  chiefly, 
abandoned  the  attempt  in  despair,  and  was  actually  on  the 
look-out  for  a  new  candidate  for  the  vacant  station  as  Colonel 
Egerton  came  into  the  neighborhood.  A  really  delicate 
female  mind  shrinks  from  the  exposure  of  its  love  to  the  other 
sex,  and  Jane  began  to  be  less  anxious  to  form  a  connexion 
which  would  either  violate  the  sensibility  of  her  nature,  or 
lead  to  treachery  to  her  friend. 

"  I  regret  extremely.  Lady  Moseley,"  said  the  dowager,  as 
they  entered  the  drawing-room,  "  that  the  accident  which 
befel  Chatterton  should  have  kept  us  until  it  was  too  late  for 
the  ceremony :  we  made  it  a  point  to  hasten  with  our  con- 
gratulations, however,  as  soon  as  Astley  Cooper  thought  it 
safe  for  him  to  travel." 

"  I  feel  indebted  for  your  kindness,"  replied  the  smiling 
hostess.  "  We  are  always  happy  to  have  our  friends  around 
us,  and  none  more  than  yourself  and  family.  We  were  for- 
tunate in  finding  a  friend  to  supply  your  son's  place,  in  order 
that  the  young  people  might  go  to  the  altar  in  a  proper 
manner.     Lady  Chatterton,  allow  me  to  present  our  friend. 


94  PKECAUTIOW. 

Colonel  Egerlon" — adding,  in  a  low  tone,  and  with  a  littU 
emphasis, — "  heir  to  Sir  Edgar." 

The  colonel  bowed  gracefully,  and  the  dowager  dropped  a 
hasty  courtesy  at  the  commencement  of  the  speech ;   but 
lower  bend  followed  the  closing  remark,  and  a  glance  of  th 
eye  was  thrown  Til  quest  of  her  daughters,  as  if  she  instinc 

ively  wished  to  bring  them  into  what  the  sailors  term  "  th 

ine  of  battle." 


PRECAUTION.  95 


^  CHAPTER  IX. 

The  following  morning,  Emily  and  Grace,  declining  the 
Mvitation  to  join  the  colonel  and  John  in  their  usual  rides, 
walked  to  the  rectory,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Wilson  and 
Chatterton.  The  ladies  felt  a  desire  to  witness  the  happiness 
that  they  so  well  knew  reigned  in  the  rectory,  for  Francis  had 
promised  his  father  to  drive  Clara  over  in  the  course  of  the 
day.  Emily  longed  to  see  Clara,  from  whom  it  appeared  that 
she  had  been  already  separated  a  month.  Her  impatience 
as  they  approached  the  house  hurried  her  ahead  of  her  com- 
panions, who  waited  the  more  sober  gait  of  Mrs.  Wilson. 
She  entered  the  parlor  at  the  rectory  without  meeting  any 
one,  glowing  with  exercise,  her  hair  falling  over  her  shoul- 
ders, released  from  the  confinement  of  tlie  hat  she  had  thrown 
down  hastily  as  she  reached  the  door.  In  the  room  there 
stood  a  gentleman  in  deep  black,  with  his  back  towards  the 
entrance,  intent  on  a  book,  and  she  naturally  concluded  it 
was  Francis. 

"  Where  is  dear  Clara,  Frank  ?"  cried  the  beautiful  girl, 
faying  her  hand  affectionately  on  his  shoulder. 

The  gentleman  turned  suddenly,  and  presented  to  her  as- 
tonished gaze  the  well  remembered  countenance  of  the  young 
man  whose  parent's  death  was  not  hkely  to  be  forgotten  at 
B . 

"  I  thought,  sir,"  said  Emily,  almost  sinking  with  confu- 
sion, "  that  Mr.  Francis  Ives — " 

"  Your  brother  has  not  yet  arrived,' Miss  Moseley,"  simply 
replied  the  stranger,  who  felt  for  her  embarrassment.     "  But 


9G  PRECAUTION.  • 

1  will  immediately  acquaint  Mrs.  Ives  with  your  visit."     Bow- 
ing, he  delicately  left  the  room. 

Emily,  who  felt  greatly  relieved  by  his  manner,  immedi- 
ately confined  her  hair  in  its  proper  bounds,  and  had  reco- 
vered her  composure  by  the  time  her  aunt  and  friends  joined 
her.     She  had  not  time  to  mention  the  incident,  and  laugh 
her  own  precipitation,  when  the  rector's  wife  came  into  th 
room. 

Chatterton  and  his  sister  were  both  known  to  Mrs.  Ives, 
and  both  were  favorites.  She  was  pleased  to  see  them,  and 
after  reproaching  the  brother  with  compelHng  her  son  to  ask 
a  favor  of  a  comparative  stranger,  she  turned  to  Emily,  and 
smilingly  said — 

"  You  found  the  parlor  occupied,  I  believe  V* 

"  Yes,"  said  Emily,  laughing  and  blushing,  '*  I  suppose 
Mr.  Denbigh  told  you  of  my  heedlessness." 

"  He  told  me  of  your  attention  in  calling  so  soon  to  inquire 
after  Clai-a,  but  said  nothing  more" — a  servant  just  then  tell 
ing  her  Francis  wished  to  see  her,  she  excused  hei-self  and 
withdrew.  In  the  door  she  met  Mr.  Denbigh,  who  made 
way  for  her,  saying,  "  your  son  has  arrived,  ma'am,"  and 
in  an  easy  but  respectful  manner  he  took  his  place  with  the 
guests,  no  introduction  passing,  and  none  seeming  necessary. 
His  misfortunes  appeared  to  have  made  him  acquainted  with 
Mrs.  Wilson,  and  his  strikingly  ingenuous  manner  won  insen- 
sibly on  the  confidence  of  tho^**.  who  heard  him.  Everything 
was  natural,  yet  everything  was  softened  by  education ;  and 
the  little  party  in  the  rector's  parlor  in  fifteen  minutes  felt  as 
if  they  had  known  him  for  years.  The  doctor  and  his  son 
now  joined  them.  Clara  had  not  come,  but  she  was  looking 
forward  in  delightful  expectation  of  to-morrow,  and  wished 
greatly  for  Emily  as  a  guest  at  the  new  abode.  This  plea- 
fure  Mrs.  Wilson  promised  she  should  have  as  soon  as  they 


PRECAUTION. 


%9 


had  got  over  the  huny  of  their  visit ;  " our  fiiend?^,"  she 
addea,  tui-ning  to  Grace,  "  will  overlook  the  nicer  punctilios  of 
ceremony,  where  sisterly  regard  calls  for  the  discharge  of 
more  important  duties.  Clara  needs  the  society  of  Emily 
just  now." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Grace,  mildly  ;  "  I  hope  no  useless  cere- 
mony on  the  part  of  Emily  would  prevent  her  manifesting 
natural  attachment  to  her  sister — I  should  feel  hurt  at  her 
not  entertaining  a  better  opinion  of  us  than  to  suppose  so  for 
a  moment." 

"  This,  young  ladies,  is  the  real  feeling  to  keep  alive  es- 
teem," cried  the  doctor,  gaily:  *'go  on,  and  say  and  do 
nothing  of  which  either  can  disapprove,  when  tried  by  the 
standard  of  duty,  and  you  need  never  be  afraid  of  losing  a 
friend  that  is  worth  keeping." 

It  was  three  o'clock  before  the  carriage  of  Mrs.  Wilson  ar- 
rived at  the  rectory  ;  and  the  time  stole  away  insensibly  in 
free  and  friendly  communications.  Denbigh  bad  joined  mo- 
destly, and  with  the  degree  of  interest  a  stranger  might  be 
supposed  to  feel,  in  the  occurrences  of  a  circle  to  which  he 
was  nearly  a  stranger ;  there  was  at  times  a  slight  display  of 
awkwardness,  however,  about  both  him  and  Mrs.  Ives,  for 
which  Mrs.  Wilson  easily  accounted  by  recollections  of  his 
recent  loss  and  the  scene  they  had  all  witnessed  in  that  very 
room.  This  embarrassment  escaped  the  notice  of  the  rest  of 
the  party.  On  the  arrival  of  the  carriage,  Mi-s.  Wilson  took 
her  leave; 

"  I  like  this  Mr.  Denbigh  greatly,"  said  Lord  Chatterton, 
as  they  drove  from  the  door ;  "  there  is  something  strikingly 
natural  and  winning  in  his  manner." 

"  In  his  matter  too,  judging  of  the  little  we  have  seen  of 
him,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilson. 

"  Who  is  he,  ma'am  ?" 

5 


98  PRECAUTION. 

*'  I  rather  suspect  he  is  someway  related  to  Mrs.  Ives ;  her 
staying  from  Bolton  to-day  must  be  owing-  to  Mr.  Denbigh, 
and  as  the  doctor  has  just  gone  he  must  be  near  enough  to 
them  to  be  neither  wholly  neglected  nor  yet  a  tax  upon  their 
politeness.     I  rather  wonder  he  did  not  go  with  them." 

"  I  heard  him  tell  Francis,"  remarked  Emily,  "  that  he  could 
not  think  of  intruding,  and  he  insisted  on  Mrs.  Ives's  going, 
but  she  had  employments  to  keep  her  at  home." 

The  carriage  soon  reached  an  angle  in  the  road  where  the 
highways  between  Bolton  Castle  and  Moseley  Hall  intersected 
each  other,  at  a  point  on  the  estate  of  the  former.  Mrs. 
Wilson  stopped  a  moment  to  inquire  after  an  aged  pensioner, 
who  had  lately  met  with  a  loss  in  business,  which  she  was 
fearful  must  have  greatly  distressed  him.  In  crossing  a  ford 
in  the  little  river  between  his  cottage  and  the  market-town,  the 
stream,  which  had  been  swollen  unexpectedly  higher  than 
usual  by  heavy  rains,  had  swept  away  his  horse  and  cart  loaded 
with  the  entire  produce  of  his  small  field,  and  with  much  dif- 
ficulty he  had  saved  even  his  own  life.  Mrs.  Wilson  had  not 
had  it  in  her  power  until  this  moment  to  inquire  particularly 
into  the  affair,  or  to  offer  the  relief  she  was  ever  ready  to  be- 
stow on  proper  objects.  Contrary  to  her  expectations,  she 
found  Humphreys  in  high  spirits,  showing  his  delighted 
grand-children  a  new  cart  and  horse  which  stood  at  the  door, 
and  exultingly  pointing  out  the  excellent  qualities  of  both. 
He  ceased  talking  on  the  approach  of  the  party,  and  at  the 
request  of  his  ancient  benefactress  he  gave  a  particular  ac 
count  of  the  affair. 

"  And  where  did  you  get  this  new  cart  and  horse,  Hum 
phreys?"  inquirea  Mrs.  Wilson,  when  he  had  ended. 

"  Oh,  madam,  I  went  up  to  the  castle  to  see  the  steward, 
and  Mr.  Martin  just  mentioned  my  loss  to  Lord  Pendennyss, 
ma'am,  and  my  loru  ordered  me  this  cart,  ma'am,  and  this 


PRECAUTION.  99 

noble  horse,  and  twenty  golden  guineas  into  the  bargain  to 
put  me  on  my  legs  again — God  bless  him  for  it,  for  ever  !'* 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  his  lordship,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Wil- 
son, thoughtfully  :  "  I  did  not  know  he  was  at  the  castle.*' 

"  He's  gone,  already,  madam  ;  the  servants  told  me  that  he 
just  called  to  see  the  earl,  on  his  way  to  Lon'on ;  but  finding 
he'd  went  a  few  days  agone  to  Ireland  my  lord  went  for 
Lon'on,  without  stopping  the  night  even.  Ah!  madam," 
continued  the  old  man,  who  stood  leaning  on  a  stick,  with  his 
hat  in  his  hand,  "  he's  a  great  blessing  to  the  poor ;  his  ser- 
vants say  he  gives  thousands  every  year  to  the  poor  who  are 
in  want — he  is  main  rich,  too ;  some  people  say,  much  richer 
and  more  great  like  than  the  earl  himself.  I'm  sure  I  have 
need  to  bless  him  every  day  of  my  life." 

Mrs.  Wilson  smiled  mournfully  as  she  wished  Humphreys 
good  day  and  put  up  her  purse,  finding  the  old  man  so  well 
provided  for ;  a  display  or  competition  in  charity  never  en- 
tering into  her  system  of  benevolence. 

"  His  lordship  is  munificent  in  his  bounty,"  said  Emily,  as 
they  drove  from  the  door. 

"  Does  it  not  savor  of  thoughtlessness  to  bestow  so  much 
where  he  can  know  so  little  ?"  Lord  Chatterton  ventured  to 
inquire. 

'*  He  is,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  as  old  Humphrey  says, 
main  rich  ;  but  the  son  of  the  old  man  and  the  father  of  these 

children  is  a  soldier  in  the th  dragoons,  of  which  the  earl 

is  colonel,  and  that  ^accounts  to  me  for  his  liberality,"  recol- 
lecting, with  a  sigh,  the  feelings  which  had  drawn  her  out 
of  the  usual  circle  of  her  charities  in  the  case  of  the  same 
inan. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  Lord  Pendennyss,  aunt  1" 

"  Never,  my  dear ;  he  has  been  much  abroad,  but  my  letf- 
ters  were  filled  with  his  praises,  and  I  confess  my  disappoint* 


100  PRECAUTION. 

ment  is  great  in  not  seeing  him  on  this  visit  to  Lord  Bolton, 
who  is  his  relation ;  but,"  fixing  her  eyes  thoughtfully  on  her 
niece,  ''  we  shall  meet  in  Loudon  this  winter,  I  trust." 

As  she  spoke  a  cloud  passed  o\^r  her  features,  and  8h<3 
continued  much  absorbed  in  thought  for  the  remainder  of  theli' 
drive. 

General  Wilson  had  teen  a  cavalry  officer,  and  he  com- 
manded the  very  regiment  now  held  by  Lord  Pendennyss. 
In  an  excursion  near  the  British  camp  he  had  been  rescued 
from  captivity,  if  not  from  death,  by  a  gallant  and  timely  in- 
terference of  this  young  nobleman,  then  in  command  of  a  troop 
in  the  same  corps.  He  had  mentioned  the  occurrence  to  his 
wife  in  his  letters,  and  from  that  day  his  correspondence  was 
filled  with  the  praises  of  the  bravery  and  goodness  to  the 
soldieiy  of  his  young  comrade.  When  he  fell  he  had 
been  supported  from  the  field  by,  and  he  actually"  died  in  the 
arms  of  the  young  peer.  A  letter  announcing  his  death  had 
been  received  by  his  widow  from  the  earl  himself,  and  the 
tender  and  affectionate  manner  in  which  he  spoke  of  her  hus- 
band had  taken  a  deep  hold  on  her  affections.  All  the  cir- 
cumstances together  threw  an  interest  around  him  that  had 
made  Mrs.  ^Vilson  almost  entertain  the  romantic  wish  he 
might  be  found  worthy  and  disposed  to  solicit  the  hand  of 
Emily.  Her  anxious  inquiries  into  his  character  had  been 
attended  with  such  answers  as  flattered  her  wishes ;  but  the 
military  duties  of  the  earl  or  his  private  affairs  had  never 
allowed  a  meeting ;  and  she  was  now  compelled  to  look  for- 
ward to  what  John  laughingly  termed  their  winter  campaign, 
as  the  only  probable  place  where  she  could  be  gratified  with 
the  sight  of  a  young  man  to  whom  she  owed  so  much,  and 
whose  name  was  connected  with  some  of  the  most  tender 
though  most  melancholy  recollections  of  her  life. 

Colonel  Egerton,  who  now  appeared  to  be  almost  domesti- 


PRECAUTION.  lOi 

cated  in  the  femily,  was  again  of  the  party  at  dinner,  to  the 
no  small  satisfaction  of  the  dowager,  who  from  proper  inqui- 
ries in  the  course  of  the  day  had  learned  that  Sir  Edgar's  heii 
was  likely  to  have  the  necessary  number  of  figures  in  the  sum 
total  of  his  rental.  While  sitting  in  the  drawing-room  that 
afternoon  she  made  an  attempt  to  bring  her  eldest  daughter 
and  the  elegant  soldier  together  over  a  chess-board ;  a  game 
the  young  lady  had  been  required  to  learn  because  it  was  one 
*at  which  a  gentleman  could  be  kept  longer  than  any  other 
without  having  his"  attention  drawn  away  by  any  of  those 
stragghng  charms  which  might  be  travelling  a  drawing-room 
*'  seeking  whom  they  may  devour."  It  was  also  a  game  ad- 
mirably suited  to  the  display  of  a  beautiful  hand  and  arm. 
But  the  mother  had  for  a  long  time  been  puzzled  to  discover 
a  way  of  bringing  in  the  foot  also,  the  young  lady  being  par 
ticularly  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  that  portion  of  the 
frame.  In  vain  her  daugher  hinted  at  dancing,  an  amusement 
of  which  she  was  passionately  fond.  The  wary  mother  knew 
too  well  the  effects  of  concentrated  force  to  hsten  to  the  sug- 
gestion :  dancing  might  do  for  every  manager,  but  she  prided 
herself  in  acting  en  masse,  like  Napoleon,  whose  tactics  con- 
sisted in  overwhelming  by  uniting  his  forces  on  a  given  point. 
After  many  experiments  in  her  own  person  she  endeavored  to 
improve  Catharine's  manner  of  sitting,  and  by  dint  of  twisting 
and  turning  she  contrived  that  her  pretty  foot  and  ankle 
should  be  thrown  forward  in  a  way  that  the  eye  dropping 
from  the  move,  should  unavoidably  rest  on  this  beauteous 
object;  giving,  as  it  were,  a  Scylla  and  Charybdis  to  her 
daughter's  charms. 

John  Moseley  was  the  first  person  on  whom  she  undertook 
to  try  the  effect  of  her  invention;  and  after  comfortably 
seating  the  parties  she  withdrew  to  a  little  distance  to  watch 
the  effect. 


102  PRECAUTION. 

"  Check  to  yoiu'  king,  Miss  Chatterton,"  cried  John,  early  in 
the  ga,rae — and  the  young  lady  thrust  out  her  foot.  "  Check 
to  your  king,  Mr.  Moseley,"  echoed  the  damsel,  and  John's 
eyes  wandered  from  hand  to  foot  and  foot  to  hand.  "  Check 
king  and  queen,  sir." — "  Check-mate." — "  Did  you  speak  ?" 
said  John.  Looking  up  he  caught  the  eye  of  the  dowager 
fixed  on  him  in  triumph — '*  Oh,  ho,"  said  the  young  man, 
internally,  "  Mother  Chatterton,  are  you  playing  too  ?"  and, 
coolly  taking  up  his  hat,  he  walked  off,  nor  could  they  ever* 
get  him  seated  at  the  game  again. 

"  You  beat  me  too  easily,  Miss  Chatterton,"  he  would  say 
when  pressed  to  play,  "  before  I  have  time  to  look  up  it's 
check-mate — excuse  me." 

The  dowager  next  settled  down  into  a  more  covert  attack 
through  Grace ;  but  here  she  had  two  to  contend  with :  her 
own  forces  rebelled,  and  the  war  had  been  protracted  to  the 
present  hour  with  vaiied  success,  and  at  least  without  any 
material  captures,  on  one  side. 

Colonel  Egerton  entered  on  the  duties  of  his  dangerous  un- 
dertaking with  the  indifference  of  foolhardiness.  The  game 
was  played  with  tolerable  abiUty  by  both  parties  ;  but  no 
emotions,  no  absence  of  mind  could  be  discovered  on  the  part 
of  the  gentleman.  Feet  and  hands  were  in  motion  ;  still  the 
colonel  played  as  well  as  usual ;  he  had  answers  for  all  Jane's 
questions,  and  smiles  for  his  partner;  but  no  check-mate 
could  she  obtain,  until  wilfully  throwing  away  an  advanta^^e 
he  suffered  the  lady  to  win  the  game.  The  dowager  wa3 
satisfied  nothing  could  be  done  with  the  colonel 


PRECAUTION.  lOS 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  first  carriages  that  rolled  over  the  lawn  to  Bolton 

parsonage,  on  the  succeeding  day,  were  those  of  the  baronet 
and  his  sister ;  the  latter  in  advance. 

"  There,  Francis,"  cried  Emily,  who  was  impatiently  wait 
ing  for  him  to  remove  some  slight  obstruction  to  her  alighting, 
"  thank  you,  thank  you  ;  that  will  do." 

In  the  next  moment  she  was  in  the  extended  arms  of  Clara. 
After  pressing  each  other  to  their  bosoms  for  a  few  moments 
in  silence,  Emily  looked  up,  with  a  tear  glistening  in  her  eye, 
and  first  noticed  the  form  of  Denbigh,  who  was  modestly 
withdrawing,  as  if  unwilling  to  intrude  on  such  pure  and 
domestic  feelings  as  the  sisters  were  betraying,  unconscious 
of  the  presence  of  a  witness.  Mrs.  Wilson  and  Jane,  fol- 
lowed by  Miss  Chatterton,  now  entered,  and  cordial  salutes 
and  greetings  flowed  upon  Clara  from  her  various  friends. 

The  baronet's  coach  reached  the  door ;  it  contained  himself 
and  wife,  Mr.  Benfield,  and  Lady  Chatterton.  Clara  stood 
on  the  portico  of  the  building,  ready  to  receive  them ;  her 
face  all  smiles,  and  tears,  and  blushes,  and  her  arm  locked 
in  that  of  Emily. 

"  I  wish  you  joy  of  your  new  abode,  Mrs.  Francis."  Lady 
Moseley  foigot  her  form,  and  bursting  into  tears,  she  presses 
her  daughter  with  ardor  to  her  bosom. 

"Clara,  my  love!'*  said  the  baronet,  hastily  wiping  his 
eyes,  and  succeeding  his  wife  in  the  embrace  of  their  child. 
He  kissed  her,  and,  pressing  Francis  hy  the  hand,  walked  into 
the  house  in  silence. 


104  -PRECAUTION. 

*'  Well,  well,"  cried  the  dowager,  as  slie  saluted  her  cousin, 

•*  all  looks  comfortable  and  genteel  here,  upon  my  word,  Mrs. 

Ives  :    grapery — hot-houses — everything  in  good   style  too  ; 

and   Sir  Edward  tells  me   the  living  is  worth  a  good  five 

undred  a  year." 

"  So,  girl,  I  suppose  you  expect  a  kiss,"  said  Mr.  Benfield 
who  ascended  the  steps  slowly,  and  with  difficulty.  "  Kissinj 
has  gone  much  out  of  fashion  lately.  I  remember,  on  the 
marriage  of  my  friend,  Lord  Gosford,  in  the  year  fifty-eight, 
that  all  the  maids  and  attendants  were  properly  saluted  in 
ordei*.  The  lady  Juliana  was  quite  young  then ;  not  more 
than  fifteen :  it  was  there  I  got  my  first  salute  from  her — 
but — so — kiss  me."  After  which  he  continued,  as  they  went 
into  the  house,  *'  Marrying  in  that  day  was  a  serious  business. 
You  might  visit  a  lady  a  dozen  times  before  you  could  get  a 
sight  of  her  naked  hand.  Who's  that  ?"  stopping  short,  and 
looking  earnestly  at  Denbigh,  who  now  approached  them. 

"  Mr.  Denbigh,  sir,"  said  Clara,  "  my  uncle,  Mr.  Benfield." 

"  Did  you  ever  know,  sir,  a  gentleman  of  your  name,  who 
sat  in  the  parliament  of  this  realm  in  the  year  sixty  ?"  Mr. 
Benfield  abruptly  asked,  as  soon  as  the  civilities  of  the  inti'o- 
duction  were  exchanged.      "  You  don't  look  much  like  him." 

"  That  was  rather  before  my  day,  sir,"  said  Denbigh,  with 
a  smile,  respectfully  offering  to  relieve  Clara,  who  supported 
him  on  one  side,  while  Emily  held  his  arm  on  the  other. 

The  old  gentleman  was  particularly  averse  to  strangers, 
and  Emily  was  in  terror  lest  he  should  say  something  rude ; 
but,  after  examining  Denbigh  again  from  head  to  foot,  he 
-took  the  offered  arm,  and  coolly  replied — 

"  True ;  very  true ;  that  was  sixty  years  ago ;  you  can 
hardly  recollect  as  long.  Ah  !  Mr.  Denbigh,  times  are  sadly 
altered  since  my  youth.  People  who  were  then  glad  to  ride 
on  a  pillion  now  drive  their  coaches  ;    men  who  thought  ale 


PRECAUTION.  105 

a  luxury,  diink  their  port ;  aye !  and  those  who  went  bare- 
foot must  have  their  shoes  and  stockings,  too.  Luxury,  sir, 
and  the  love  of  ease,  will  ruin  this  mighty  empire.  Corruption 
has  taken  hold  of  everything ;  the  ministry  buy  the  members, 
he  members  buy  the  ministry  ;  everything  is  bought  and 
old.  Now,  sir,  in  the  parliament  in  which  I.  had  the  honor 
of  a  seat,  there  was  a  knot  of  us,  as  upright  as  posts,  sir.  Mv 
Lord  Gosford  was  one,  and  General  Denbigh  was  another, 
although  I  can't  say  he  was  much  a  favorite  with  me.  You 
do  not  look  in  the  least  like  him.  How  was  he  related  to 
you,  sir  ?" 

"  He  was  my  grandfather,"  replied  Denbigh,  looking 
pleasantly  at  Emily,  as  if  to  tell  her  he  understood  the 
character  of  her  uncle. 

Had  the  old  man  continued  his  speech  an  hour  longer, 
Denbigh  would  not  have  complained.  They  had  stopped 
while  talking,  and  he  thus  became  confronted  with  the 
beautiful  figure  that  supported  the  other  arm.  Denbigh 
contemplated  in  admiration  the  varying  countenance  which 
now  blushed  with  apprehension,  and  now  smiled  in  affection, 
or  even  with  an  archer  expression,  as  her  uncle  proceeded  in 
his  harangue  on  the  times.  But  all  felicity  in  this  world  has 
an  end,  as  well  as  misery.  Denbigh  retained  the  recollection 
of  that  speech  long  after  Mr.  Benfield  was  comfortably  seated 
in  the  parlor,  though  for  his  life  he  could  not  recollect  a  word 
he  had  said. 

The  Haughtons,  the  Jarvises,  and  a  few  more  of  their 
intimate  acquaintances,  arrived,  and  the  parsonage  had  a  busy 
air ;  but  John,  who  had  undertaken  to  drive  Grace  Chattertoii 
in  his  own  phaeton,  was  yet  absent.  Some  little  anxiety  had 
begun  to  be  manifested,  when  he  appeared,  dashing  through 
the  gates  at  a  great  rate,  and  with  the  skill  of  a  member  of 
the  four-in-hand. 


106  PRECAUTION. 

Lady  Chatterton  Iiad  begun  to  be  seriously  uneasy,  and 
she  was  about  to  speak  to  her  son  to  go  in  quest  of  them,  as 
they  came  in  sight ;  but  now  her  fears  vanished,  and  she 
could  only  suppose  that  a  desire  to  have  Grace  alone  could 
Keep  one  who  had  the  reputation  of  a  Jehu  so  much  behind 
the  rest  of  the  party.  She  met  them  in  great  spirits, 
<;i-ying, 

"  Upon  my  word,  Mr.  Moseley,  I  began  to  think  you  had 
taken  the  road  to  Scotland,  you  stayed  so  long." 

"  Your  daughter,  my  Lady  Chatterton,"  said  John,  pithily, 
*'  would  go  to  Scotland  neither  with  me  nor  any  other  man, 
or  I  am  greatly  deceived  in  her  character.  Clara,  my  sister, 
how  do  you  do  ?"  He  saluted  the  bride  with  great  warmth 
and  affection. 

"  But  what  detained  you,  Moseley  ?"  inquired  the  mother. 

"  One  of  the  horses  was  restive,  and  he  broke  the  harness. 
We  merely  stopped  in  the  village  while  it  was  mended." 

"  And  how  did  Grace  behave  ?"  asked  Emily,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  a  thousand  times  better  than  you  would,  sister;  as 
she  always  does,  and  like  an  angel." 

The  only  point  in  dispute  between  Emily  and  her  brother 
was  her  want  of  faith  in  his  driving ;  while  poor  Grace, 
naturally  timid,  and  unwilling  to  oppose  any  one,  particularly 
tiie  gentleman  who  then  held  the  reins,  had  governed  herself 
sufficiently  to  be  silent  and  motionless.  Indeed,  she  could 
iiardly  do  otherwise  had  she  wished  it,  so  great  was  his 
impetuosity  of  character;  and  John  felt  flattered  to  a  degree 
!)f  which  he  was  himself  unconscious.  Self-complacency, 
iiided  by  the  merit,  the  beauty,  and  the  delicacy  of  .he  young 
lady  herself,  might  have  led  to  the  very  results  her  mother 
so  anxiously  wished  to  produce,  had  that  mother  been  satisfied 
with  letting  things  take  their  course.  But  managers  very 
generally  overdo  their  work. 


PRECAUTIOK.  107 

'•*  Grace  is  a  good  girl,"  said  her  gratified  mother ;  "  and 
you  found  her  very  valiant,  Mr.  Moseley  V 

"  Oh,  as  brave  as  Caesar,"  answered  John,  carelessly,  in  a 
way  that  was  not  quite  free  from  irony. 

Grace,  "whose  burning  cheek  showed"  but  too  plainly  that 
praise  from  John  Moseley  was  an  incense  too  powerful  for  her 
Tisistanoe,  now  sank  back  behind  some  of  the  company, 
e  ideavoring  to  conceal  the  tears  that  almost  gushed  from  her 
eyes.  Denbigh  was  a  silent  spectator  of  the  whole  scene,  and 
he  now  considerately  observed,  that  he  had  lately  seen  an 
improvement  which  would  obviate  the  difficulty  Mr.  Moseley 
had  experienced.  John  turned  to  the  speaker,  and  they  were 
soon  engaged  in  the  discussion  of  curbs  and  buckles,  when 
the  tilbury  of  Colonel  Egerton  drove  to  the  door,  containing 
himself  and  his  friend  the  captain. 

The  bride  undoubtedly  received  congratulations  that  day 
more  sincere  than  those  w^hich  were  now  offered,  but  none 
were  delivered  in  a  more  graceful  and  insinuating  manner 
than  the  compliments  which  fell  from  Colonel  Egerton.  He 
passed  round  the  room,  speaking  to  his  acquaintances,  until 
he  arrived  at  the  chair  of  Jane,  who  was  seated  next  her 
aunt.  Here  he  stopped,  and  glancing  his  eye  round,  and 
saluting  with  bows  and  smiles  the  remainder  of  the  party,  be 
appeared  fixed  at  the  centre  of  all  attraction. 

"  There  is  a  gentleman  I  think  I  have  never  seen  before,'* 
lie  observed  to  Mrs.  Wilson,  casting  his  eyes  on  Denbigh, 
whose  back  was  towards  him  in  discourse  with  Mr.  Benfield. 

"  It  is  Mr.  Denbigh,  of  whom  you  heard  us  speak,"  replied 
Mi-s.  Wilson.  While  she  spoke,  Denbigh  faced  them 
Ecrerton  started  as  he  cauo^ht  a  view  of  his  face,  and  seemed 
to  gaze  on  the  countenance  which  was  open  to  his  inspection 
with  an  earnestness  that  showed  an  interest  of  some  kind,  but 
of  a  nature  that  was  inexplicable  to  Mrs.  Wilson,  who  was 


108  PRECAUTION. 

the  only  observer  of  this  singular  recognition ;  for  such  it 
evidently  was.  All  was  now  natural  in  the  colonel  for  the 
moment ;  his  color  sensibly  changed,  and  there  was  an  ex- 
pression of  doubt  in  his  face.  It  might  be  fear,  it  might  be 
horror,  it  might  be  a  strong  aversion;  it  clearly  was  not  love. 
Emily  sat  by  her  aunt,  and  Denbigh  approached  them,  making 
a  cheerful  remark.  It  was  impossible  for  the  colonel  to 
avoid  him  had  he  wished  it,  and  he  kept  his  ground.  Mrs. 
Wilson  thought  she  would  try  the  experiment  of  an  intro- 
duction. 

"  Colonel  Egerton— Mr.  Denbigh." 

Both  gentlemen  bowed,  but  nothing  striking  was  seen  in 
the  deportment  of  either.  The  colonel,  who  was  not  exactly 
at  ease,  said  hastily — 

"  Mr.  Denbigh  is,  or  has  been  in  the  army,  I  believe." 

Denbigh  was  now  taken  by  surprise  in  his  turn :  he  cast  a 
look  on  Egerton  of  fixed  and  settled  paeaning ;  then  carelessly 
observed,  but  still  as  if  requiring  an  answer: 

"  I  am  yet ;  but  I  do  not  recollect  having  had  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  with  Colonel  Egerton  on  service." 

"  Your  countenance  is  familiar,  sir,"  replied  the  colonel, 
coldly;  "but  at  this  moment  I  cannot  tax  my  memory  with- 
the  place  of  our  meeting,  though  one  sees  so  many  strange 
faces  in  a  campaign,  that  they  come  and  go  like  shadows." 

He  then  changed  the  conversation.  It  w'as  some  time, 
however,  before  either  gentleman  entirely  recovei'ed  his  ease 
and  many  days  elapsed  ere  anything  like  intercourse  passed 
between  them.  The  colonel  attached  himself  during  this 
visit  to  Jane,  with  occasional  notices  of  the  Misses  Jarvis,  who 
began  to  manifest  symptoms  of  uneasiness  at  the  decided 
preference  he  showed  to  a  lady  they  now  chose  to  look  upon, 
in  some  measure,  as  a  rival. 

Mrs.   Wilson  and  her  chaige,  on   the  other  hand,  were 


PRECAUTION.  109 

entertained  by  the  conversation  of  Chatterton  and  Denbigh, 
relieved  by  occasional  sallies  from  the  lively  John.  There 
was  something  in  the  person  and  manners  of  Denbigh  that 
insensibly  attracted  those  whom  chance  threw  in  his  way. 
His  face  was  not  strikingly  handsome,  but  it  was  noble ;  and 
when  he  smiled,  or  was  much  animated,  it  invariably  com- 
municated a  spark  of  his  own  enthusiasm  to  the  beholder. 
His  figure  was  faultless ;  his  air  and  manner,  if  less  easy  than 
those  of  Colonel  Egerton,  were  more  sincere  and  ingenuous ; 
his  breeding  was  clearly  higher ;  his  respect  for  others  rather 
bordering  on  the  old  school.  But  in  his  voice  there  existed 
a  charm  which  would  make  him,  when  he  spoke,  to  a  female 
ear.  almost  resistless  :  it  was  soft,  deep,  melodious,  and  winning. 

"  Baronet,"  said  the  rector,  looking  with  a  smile  towards 
his  son  and  daughter,  "  I  love  to  see  ray  children  happy,  and 
Mrs.  Ives  threatens  a  divorce  if  I  go  on  in  the  manner  I  have 
commenced.     She  says  I  desert  her  for  Bolton." 

"  Why,  doctor,  if  our  wives  conspire  against  us,  and  pre- 
vent our  enjoying  a  comfortable  dish  of  tea  with  Clara,  or  a 
glass  of  wine  with  Frank,  we  must  call  in  the  higher  author- 
ities as  umpires.  What  say  you,  sister?  Is  a  parent  to 
desert  his  child  in  any  case  ?" 

"  My  opinion  is,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  with  a  smile,  yei 
speaking  with  emphasis,  "  that  a  parent  is  not  to  desert  a 
child,  in  any  case  or  in  any  manner." 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  my  Lady  Moseley  ?"  cried  the  good- 
humored  baronet. 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  my  Lady  Chatterton  f  echoed  John, 
who  had  just  taken  a  seat  by  Grace,  when  her  mother 
approached  them. 

"  I  hear  it,  but  do  not  see  the  application,  Mr.  Moseley." 

"  No,  my  lady  !  Why,  there  is  the  honorable  Miss  Chat- 
terton almost  dying  to  play  a  game  of  her  favorite  chess 


110  PRECAUTIo^^ 

with  Mr.  Denbigh.  She  has  beaten  us  all  but  him,  and  her 
triumph  will  not  be  complete  until  she  has  him  too  at  her 
feet." 

And  as  Denbigh  politely  ofifered  to  meet  the  challenge, 
the  board  was  produced,  and  the  parties  were  seated.  Lady 
Chatterton  stood  leaning  over  her  daughter's  chair,  with  a 
view,  however,  to  prevent  any  of  those  consequences  she  was 
L,enerally  fond  of  seeing  result  from  this  amusement ;  every 
measure  taken  by  this  prudent  mother  being  literally  governed 
by  judicious  calculation. 

"  Umph,"  thought  John,  as  he  viewed  the  players,  while 
listening  with  pleasure  to  tRe  opinions  of  Grace,  who  had 
recovered  her  composure  and  spirits ;  *'  Kate,  after  all,  has 
played  one  game  without  using  her  feet." 


PRECAUTION.  Ill 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Ten  days  or  a  fortnight  flew  swiftly  by,  during  which  Mi-s. 
Wilson  suffered  Emily  to  give  Clara  a  week,  having  first 
ascertained  that  Denbigh  was  a  settled  resident  at  the  rec- 
tory, and  thereby  not  likely  to  be  oftener  at  the  House  of 
Francis  than  at  the  hall,  where  he  was  a  frequent  and  wel- 
come guest,  both  on  his  own  account  and  as  a  friend  of  Doc- 
tor Ives.  Emily  had  returned,  and  she  brought  the  bride 
and  groom  with  her  ;  when  one  evening  as  they  were  plea- 
santly seated  at  their  various  amusements,  with  the  ease  of 
old  acquaintences,  Mr.  Haughton  entered.  It  was  at  an  hour 
rather  unusual  for  his  visits ;  and  throwing  down  his  hat, 
after  making  the  usual  inquiries,  he  began  without  preface — 

"  I  know,  good  people,  you  are  all  wondering  what  has 
brought  me  out  this  time  of  night,  but  the  truth  is,  Lucy  has 
coaxed  her  mother  to  persuade  me  into  a  ball  in  honor  of  the 
times ;  so,  my  lady,  I  have   consented,   and  ray  wife   and 

daughter  have  been  buying  up  all  the  finery  in  B ,  by 

the  way,  I  suppose,  of  anticipating  their  friends.  There  is  a 
regiment  of  foot  come  into  barracks  within  fifteen  miles  of  us, 
and  to-morrow  I  must  beat  up  for  recruits  among  the  officers 
— gills  are  never  wanting  on  such  occasions." 

''  ^Vhy,"  cried  the  baronet,  "  you  are  growing  young  again, 
my  friend." 

"  No,  Sir  Edward,  but  my  daughter  is  young,  and  life  has 
so  many  cares  that  I  am  willing  she  should  get  rid  of  as  many 
as  she  can  at  mv  expense." 

"  Surely  you  w  ould  not  wish  her  to  dance  them  away," 


112  PRECAUTIOif. 

said  Mrs.  Wilson  ;  "  such  relief  I  am  afraid  will  prove  tem- 
porary." 

"  Do  you  disapprove  of  dancing,  ma'am  ?"  said  Mr.  Haugh- 
ton,  who  held  her  opinions  in  great  respect  as  well  as  a  little 
dread. 

"  I  neither  approve  nor  disapprove  of  it — ^jumping  up  and 
down  is  innocent  enough  in  itself,  and  if  it  must  be  done  it  is 
well  it  were  done  gracefully ;  as  for  the  accompaniments  of 
dancing  I  say  nothing — what  do  you  say,  Doctor  Ives  ?" 

"  To  what,  my  dear  madam  ?" 

"  To  dancing." 

"  Oh  let  the  girls  dance  if  they  enjoy  it." 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  so,  doctor,"  cried  the  delighted  Mr. 
Haughton  ;  I  was  afraid  I  recollected  your  advising  your  son 
never  to  dance  nor  to  play  at  games  of  chance." 

"  You  thought  right,  my  friend,"  said  the  doctor,  laying 
down  his  newspaper;  "1  did  give  that  advice  to  Frank, 
whom  you  will  please  to  remember  is  now  rector  of  Bolton. 
I  do  not  object  to  dancing  as  not  innocent  in  itself  or  as  an 
elegant  exercise ;  but  it  is  like  drinking,  generally  carried  to 
excess  :  now  as  a  Christian  I  am  opposed  to  all  excesses  ;  the 
music  and  company  lead  to  intemperance  in  the  recreation, 
and  tliey  often  induce  neglect  of  duties — but  so  may  any- 
thing else." 

"  I  like  a  game  of  whist,  doctor,  greatly,"  said  Mr.  Haugh- 
ton ;  "  but  observing  that  you  never  play,  and  recollecting 
your  advice  to  Mr.  Francis,  I  have  forbidden  cards  when  you 
are  my  guest." 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  compliment,  good  sir,"  replied  the 
doctor,  with  a  smile  ;  "  still  I  would  much  rather  see  you 
play  cards  than  hear  you  talk  scandal,  as  you  sometimes  do." 

'*  Scandal !"  echoed  Mr.  Haughton. 

"  Ay,  scandal,"  said  the  doctor,  coolly,  "  such  as  the  re- 


PRECAUTION.  113 

mark  you  made  the  last  time,  which  was  only  yesterday,  I 
called  to  see  you.  You  accused  Sir  Edward  of  being  wrong 
in  letting  that  poacher  off  so  easily  ;  the  baronet,  you  said,  did 
not  shoot  himself,  and  did  not  know  how  to  prize  game  as  he 
ought." 

"  Scandal,  Doctor — do  you  call  that  scandal  ?  why  I  told 
^ir  Edward  so  himself,  two  or  three  times." 
"  I  know  you  did,  and  that  was  rude." 
"  Rude  !  I  hope  sincerely  Sir  Edward  has  put  no  such  con- 
struction on  it  ?" 

The  baronet  smiled  kindly,  and  shook  his  head. 
"  Because  the  baronet  chooses  to  forgive  your  offences,  it 
does  not  alter  their  nature,"  said  the  doctor,  gravely :  "  no, 
you  must  repent  and  amend  ;  you  impeached  his  motives  for 
doing  a  benevolent  act,  and  that  I  call  scandal." 

"  Why,  doctor,  I  was  angry  the  fellow  should  be  let  loose  ; 
he  is  a  pest  to  all  the  game  in  the  county,  and  every  sports- 
man will  tell  you  so — here,  Mr.  Moseley,  you  know  Jackson, 
the  poacher." 

"  Oh  !  a  poacher  is  an  intolerable  wretch  !"  cried  Captain 
Jarvis. 

"Oh !  a  poacher,"  echoed  John,  looking  drolly  at  Emily 
"  hang  all  poachers." 

"  Poachei-  or  no  poacher,  does  not  alter  the  scandal,"  said 
the  doctor ;  "  now  let  me  tell  you,  good  sir,  I  would  rather 
play  at  fifty  games  of  whist  than  make  one  such  speech,  un- 
less indeed.it  interfered  with  my  duties;  now,  sir,  with  your 
leave  I'll  explain  myself  as  to  my  son.  There  is  an  artificial 
levity  about  dancing  that  adds  to  the  dignity  of  no  man : 
from  some  it  may  detract :  a  clergyman  for  instance  is  sup- 
posed to  have  other  things  to  do,  and  it  might  hurt  him  in 
the  opinions  of  -those  with  whom  his  influence  is  necessary, 
and  impair  his  usefulness  ;  therefore  a  clergyman  should  never 


14  PRECAUTION". 

dance.  In  the  same  way  with  cards;  they  are  the  common 
instruments  of  gambling,  and  an  odium  is  attached  to  them 
on  that  account;  women  and  clergymen  must  respect  the 
prejudices  of  mankind  in  some  cases,  or  lose  their  influence  in 
society." 

"  I  did  hope  to  have  the  pleasure  of  your  company,  doctor, 
said  Mr.  Haughton,  hesitatingly. 

"  And  if  it  will  give  you  pleasure,"  cried  the  rector,  "  you 
shall  have  it  with  all  my  heart,  good  sir;  it  would  be  a 
greater  evil  to  wound  the  feelings  of  such  a  neighbor  as  Mr. 
Haughton,  than  to  show  my  face  once  at  a  ball,"  and  rising, 
he  laid  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  other  kindly.  "  Both 
your  scandal  and  rudeness  are  easily  forgiven  ;  but  I  wished 
to  show  you  the  common  error  of  the  world  which  has  at- 
tached odium  to  certain  things,  while  it  charitably  overlooks 
others  of  a  more  heinous  nature." 

Mr.  Haughton,  who  had  at  first  been  a  little  staggered  with 
the  attack  of  the  doctor,  recovered  himself,  and  laying  a  hand- 
ful of  notes  on  the  table,  hoped  he  should  have  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  every  body.  The  invitation  was  generally  accepted, 
and  the  worthy  man  departed,  happy  if  his  friends  did  but 
come,  and  were  pleased. 

"  Do  you  dance.  Miss  Moseley  ?"  inquired  Denbigh  of 
Emily,  as  he  sat  watching  her  graceful  movements  in  netting 
a  purse  for  her  father. 

"  Oh,  yes !  the  doctor  said  nothing  of  us  girls,  you  know 
I  suppose  he  thinks  we  have  no  dignity  to  lose." . 

'*  Admonitions  are  generally  thrown  away  on  young  ladies 
when  pleasure  is  in  the  question,"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  look 
of  almost  paternal  affection. 

"  I  hope  you  do  not  seriously  disapprove  of  it  in  modera- 
tion," said  Mrs.  Wilson. 

*'  That  depends,  madam,  upon  circumstances  ;  if  it  is  to  b« 


PRECAUTION.  115 

made  subsidiary  to  envy,  malice,  coquetry,  vanity,  or  any 
other  such  little  lady-like  accomplishment,  it  certaiijiy  had 
better  be  let  alone.  But  in  moderation,  and  with  the  feelings 
of  my  little  pet  here,  I  should  be  cynical,  indeed,  to  object." 

Denbigh  appeared  lost  in  his  own  ruminations  during  this 
dialogue ;  and  as  the  doctor  ended,  he  turned  to  the  captain, 
who  was  overlooking  a  game  of  chess  between  the  colonel  and 
Jane,  of  which  the  latter  had  become  remarkably  fond  of  late, 
playing  with  her  hands  and  eyes  instead  of  her  feet — and  in- 
quired the  name  of  the  corps  in  barracks  at  F . 

"The th  foot,  sir,"  replied  the  captain,  haughtily,  who 

neither  respected  him,  owing  to  his  want  of  consequence,  nor 
loved  him,  from  the  manner  in  which  Emily  Hstened  to  his 
conversation. 

"  Will  Miss  Moseley  forgive  a  bold  request,"  said  Denbigh, 
with  some  hesitation. 

Emily  looked  up  from  her  work  in  silence,  but  with  some 
little  fiutterings  at  the  heart. 

"  The  honor  of  her  hand  for  the  first  dance,"  continued  Den- 
bigh, observing  she  was  in  expectation  that  he  would  proceed. 
-  Emily  laughingly  said,  "  Certainly,  Mr.  Denbigh,  if  you 
can  submit  to  the  degradation." 

The  London  papers  now  came  in,  and  most  of  the  gentle 
men  sat  down  to  their  perusal.  The  colonel,  however,  re- 
placed the  men  for  a  second  game,  and  Denbigh  still  kept  his 
place  beside  Mrs.  Wilson  and  her  niece.  The  manners,  the 
sentiments,  the  whole  exterior  of  this  gentleman  were  such  as 
both  the  taste  and  judgment  of  the  aunt  approved  of;  his 
qualities  were  those  which  insensibly  gained  on  the  heart,  and 
yet  Mrs.  Wilson  noticed,  with  a  slight  uneasiness,  the  very 
evident  satisfaction  her  niece  took  in  his  society.  Tn  Dr.  Ives 
she  had  great  confidence,  yet  Dr.  Ives  was  a  friend,  and  pro- 
bably judged  him  favorably  ;  and  again,  Dr.  Ives  was  not  to 


116  PRECAUTION 

suppose  he  was  introducing  a  candidate  for  the  hand  of  Emilj 
in  every  gentleman  he  brought  to  the  hall.  Mrs.  Wilson  had 
seen  too  often  the  ill  consequences  of  trusting  to  impressions 
received  from  inferences  of  companionship,  not  to  know  the 
only  safe  way  was  to  judge  for  ourselves  :  the  opinions  of 
others  might  be  partial — might  be  prejudiced — and  many  an 
improper  connexion  had  been  formed  by  hstening  to  the  sen- 
timents of  those  who  spoke  without  interest,  and  consequently 
without  examination.  Not  a  few  matches  are  made  by  this 
idle  commendation  of  others,  uttered  by  those  who  are  re- 
spected, and  which  are  probably  suggested  more  by  a  desire 
to  please  than  by  reflection  or  even  knowledge.  In  short 
Mrs.  Wilson  knew  that  as  our  happiness  chiefly  interests  our- 
selves, so  it  was  to  ourselves,  or  to  those  few  whose  interest 
was  equal  to  our  own,  we  could  only  trust  those  important 
inquiries  necessary  to  establish  a  permanent  opinion  of  cha- 
racter. With  Doctor  Ives  her  communications  on  subjects  of 
duty  were  frequent  and  confiding,  and  although  she  sometimes 
thought  his  benevolence  disposed  him  to  be  rather  too  lenient 
to  the  faults  of  mankind,  she  entertained  a  profound  respect 
for  his  judgment.  It  had  great  influence  with  her,  if  it  were 
not  always  conclusive  ;  she  determined,  therefore,  to  have  an 
early  conveisation  with  him  on  the  subject  so  near  her  heart, 
and  be  in  a  great  measure  regulated  by  his  answers  in  the 
steps  to  be  immediately  taken.  Every  day  gave  her  what 
B'le  thought  melancholy  proof  of  the  ill  consequences  of  neg- 
J'Cting  a  duty,  in  the  increasing  intimacy  of  Colonel  Egerton 
•md  Jane. 

"  Here,  aunt,"  cried  John,  as  he  ran  over  a  paper,  "  is  a 
paragraph  relating  to  your  favorite  youth,  our  trusty  and  well 
beloved  cousin  the  Earl  of  Pendennyss." 

"  Read  it,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  with  an  interest  his  name 
never  failed  to  excite. 


PRECAUTION.  117 

*'  We  noticed  to-day  the  equipage  of  the  gallant  Lord  Pen- 
dennyss  before  the  gates  of  Annandale-house,  and  understand 
the  noble  earl  is  last  from  Bolton  castle,  Northamptonshire." 

"  A  very  important  fact,"  said  Captain  Jarvis,  sarcastically ; 
"  Colonel  Egerton  and  myself  got  as  far  as  the  village,  to  pay 
our  respects  to  him,  when  we  heard  he  had  gone  on  to 
town." 

"  The  earl's  character,  both  as  a  man  and  a  soldier,"  ob- 
served the  colonel,  "  gives  him  a  claim  to  our  attentions  that 
his  rank  would  not :  on  that  account  we  would  have  called." 

"  Brother,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  you  would  oblige  me 
greatly  by  asking  his  lordship  to  waive  ceremony ;  his  visits 
to  Bolton  castle  will  probably  be  frequent,  now  we  have  peace ; 
and  the  owner  is  so  much  from  home  that  we  may  never  see 
him  without  some  such  invitation." 

•'  Do  you  want  him  as  a  husband  for  Emily  ?"  cried  John, 
as  he  gaily  seated  himself  by  the  side  of  his  sister. 

Mrs.  Wilson  smiled  at  an  observation  which  remmded  her 
of  one  of  her  romantic  wishes  ;  and  as  she  raised  her  head  to 
reply  in  the  same  tone,  met  the  eye  of  Denbigh  fixed  on  her 
with  an  expression  that  kept  her  silent.  This  is  realiy  an  in- 
comprehensible young  man  in  some  respects,  thought  the 
cautious  widow,  his  startling  looks  on  the  introduction  to  the 
colonel  crossing  her  mind  at  the  same  time  ;  and  observing 
the  doctor  opening  the  door  that  led  to  the  baronet's  library, 
Mrs.  Wilson,  who  generally  acted  as  soon  as  she  had  decided, 
followed  him.  As  their  conversations  were  known  often  tc 
relate  to  the  little  offices  of  charity  in  which  they  both  de- 
lighted, the  movement  excited  no  surprise,  and  she  entered 
the  library  with  the  doctor  uninterrupted. 

"  Doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  impatient  to  proceed  to  the 
point,  "you  know  my  maxim,  prevention  is  better  than  cure. 
This  young  friend  of  yours  is  very  interesting." 


118  PRECAUTION. 

**  Do  you  feel  yourself  in  danger  ?"  said  the  recLor,  smiling. 

"  Not  very  imminent,"  replied  the  lady,  laughing  good- 
nataredly.  Seating  herself,  she  continued,  "  Who  is  he?  and 
who  was  his  father,  if  I  may  ask  ?" 

"  George  Denbigh,  madam,  both  father  and  son,"  said  the 
doctor,  gravely. 

"Ah,  doctor,  I  am  almost  tempted  to  wish  Frank  had 
teen  a  girl.     You  know  what  I  wish  to  learn." 

"Put  your  questions  in  order,  dear  madam,"  said  the 
doctor,  in  a  kind  manner,  "  and  they  shall  be  answered." 

"  His  principles  ?" 

"  So  far  as  I  can  learn,  they  are  good.  His  acts,  as  they 
have  come  to  my  notice,  are  highly  meritorious,  and  I  hope 
they  originated  in  proper  motives.  I  have  seen  but  little  of 
him  of  late  years,  however,  and  on  this  head  you  are  nearly 
as  good  a  judge  as  myself.  His  filial  piety,"  said  the  doctor, 
dashing  a  tear  from  his  eye,  and  speaking  with  fervor,  "  was 
lovely." 

"  His  temper — his  disposition  ?" 

"  His  temper  is  under  great  command,  although  naturally 
ardent;  his  disposition  eminently  benevolent  towards  his 
fellow-creatures." 

"'  His  connexions  ?" 

"  Suitable,"  said  the  -ioctor,  gravely. 

His  fortune  was  of  but  little  moment.  Emily  would  be 
amply  provided,  for  all  the  customary  necessaries  of  her 
station ;  and,  thanking  the  divine,  Mrs.  Wilson  returned  to 
the  parlor,  easy  in  mind,  and  determined  to  let  things  take 
their  own  course  for  a  time,  but  in  no  degree  to  relax  the 
vigilance  of  her  observation. 

On  her  return  to  the  room,  Mrs.  Wilson  observed  Denbigh 
approach  Egerton,^  and  enter  into  conversation  of  a  general 
nature.     It  was  the  first  time  anything  more  than  unavoidable 


PRECAUTION.  119 

courtesies  had  passed  between  them.  The  colonel  appeared 
slightly  uneasy  under  his  novel  situation,  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  his  companion  showed  an  anxiety  to  be  on  a  more 
friendly  footino^  than  heretofore.  There  was  something 
mysterious  in  the  feelings  manifested  by  both  these  gentlemen 
that  greatly  puzzled  the  good  lady ;  and  from  its  complexion, 
she  feared  one  or  the  other  was  not  entirely  free  from  censure. 
]t  could  not  have  been  a  quarrel,  or  their  names  would  have 
been  famihar  to  each  other.  They  had  both  served  in  Spain, 
she  knew,  and  excesses  were  often  committed  by  gentlemen 
at  a  distance  from  home  their  pride  would  have  prevented 
where  they  were  anxious  to  maintain  a  character.  Gambhng, 
and  a  few  other  prominent  vices,  floated  through  her  ima- 
gination, until,  wearied  of  conjectures  where  she  had  no  data, 
and  supposing,  after  all,  it  might  be  only  her  imagination, 
*he  turned  to  more  pleasant  reflections. 


120  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

The  bright  eyes  of  Emily  Moseley  unconsciously  wandered 
round  the  brilliant  assemblage  at  Mr.  Haughton's,  as  she  took 
her  seat,  in  search  of  her  partner.     The  rox)ms  were  filled 

with  scarlet  coats,  and  belles  from  the  little  town  of  F ; 

and  if  the  company  were  not  the  most  select  imaginable,  it 
was  disposed  to  enjoy  the  passing  moment  cheerfully  and  in 
lightness  of  heart.  Ere,  however,  she  could  make  out  to 
scan  the  countenances  of  the  men,  young  Jarvis,  decked  in 

the  full  robes  of  his  dignity,  as  captain  in  the th  foot, 

approached  and  solicited  the  honor  of  her  hand.  The  colonel 
had  already  secured  her  sister,  and  it  was  by  the  instigation 
of  his  friend,  Jarvis  had  been  thus  early  in  his  application. 
Emily  thanked  him,  and  pleaded  her  engagement.  The 
mortified  youth,  who  had  thought  dancing  with  the  ladies  a 
favor  conferred  on  them,  from  the  anxiety  his  sister  always 
manifested  to  get  partners,  stood  for  a  few  moments  in  sullen 
silence;  and  then,  as  if  to  be  revenged  on  the  sex,  he 
determined  not  to  dance  the  whole  evening.  Accordingly, 
he  withdrew  to  a  room  appropriated  to  the  gentlemen,  where 
he  found  a  few  of  the  military  beaux,  keeping  alive  the 
stimulus  they  had  brought  with  them  from  the  mess-table. 

Clara  had  prudently  decided  to  comport  herself  as  became 
a  clergyman's  wife,  and  she  declined  dancing  altogether. 
Catherine  Chatterton  was  entitled  to  open  the  ball,  as  supe- 
rior in  years  and  rank  to  any  who  were  disposed  to  enjoy  the 
amusement.  The  dowager,  who  in  her  heart  loved  to  show 
her  airs  upon  such  occasions,  had  chosen  to  be  later  than  the 


PRECAUTION.  121 

rest  of  the  family;  and  Lucy  had  to  entreat  her  father  to 
have  patience  more  than  once  during  the  interregnum  in  their 
sports  created  by  Lady  Chatterton's  fashion.  This  lady  at 
length  appeared,  attended  by  her  son,  and  followed  by  her 
daughters,  ornamented  in  all  the  taste  of  the  reigning  fashions 
Doctor  Ives  and  his  wife,  who  came  late  from  choice,  soon 
appeared,  accompanied  by  their  guest,  and  the  dancing  com- 
menced. Denbigh  had  thrown  aside  his  black  for  the  evening, 
and  as  he  approached  to  claim  her  promised  hand,  Emily 
thought  him,  if  not  as  handsome,  much  more  interesting  than 
Colonel  Egerton,  who  just  then  passed  them  while  leading 
her  sister  to  the  set.  Emily  danced  beautifully,  but  perfectly 
like  a  lady,  as  did  Jane ;  but  Denbigh,  although  graceful  in 
his  movements  and  in  time,  knew  but  little  of  the  art ;  and 
but  for 'the  assistance  of  his  partner,  he  wOuld  have  more  than 
once  gone  wrong  in  the  figure.  He  very  gravely  asked  her 
opinion  of  his  performance  as  he  handed  her  to  a  chair,  and 
she  laughingly  told  him  his  movements  were  but  a  better  sort 
of  march.  He  was  about  to  reply,  when  Jarvis  approached. 
By  the  aid  of  a  pint  of  wine  and  his  own  reflections,  the 
youth  wrought  himself  into  something  of  a  passion,  especially 
as  he  saw  Denbigh  enter,  after  Emily  had  declined  dancing 
with  himself.  There  was  a  gentleman  in  the  corps  who 
unfortunately  was  addicted  to  the  bottle,  and  he  had  fastened 
on  Jarvis  as  a  man  at  leisure  to  keep  him  company.  Wine 
openeth  the  heart,  and  the  captain  having  taken  a  peep  at 
the  dancers,  and  seen  the  disposition  of  affairs,  returned  to 
his  bottle  companion,  bursting  with  the  indignity  offered  to 
his  person.  He  dropped  a  hint,  and  a  question  or  two 
brought  the  whole  grievance  forth. 

There  is  a  certain  set  of  men  in  every  service  who  imbibe 
extravagant  notions  that  are  revolting  to  humanity,  and  which 
too  often  Di-ove  to  be  fatal  in  their  results.     Their  morals  are 

6 


PRECADTIOK. 


never  correct,  and  the  little  they  have  set  loosely  about  them. 
In  their  own  cases,  their  appeals  to  arms  are  not  always  so 
prompt;  but  in  that  of  their  friends,  their  perceptions  of 
honor  are  intuitively  keen,  and  their  inflexibilfty  in  preserving 
it  from  reproach  unbending ;  and  such  is  the  weakness  of 
mankind,  their  tenderness  on  points  where  the  nicer  feehngs 
of  a  soldier  are  involved,  that  these  machines  of  custom,  these 
thermometers  graduated  to  the  scale  of  false'honor,  usurp  the 
place  of  reason  and  benevolence,  and  become  too  often  the 
arbiters  of  life  and  death  to  a  whole  corps.  Such,  then,  was 
the  confidant  to  whom  Jarvis  communicated  the  cause  of  his 
disgust,  and  the  consequences  may  easily  be  imagined.  As 
he  passed  Emily  and  Denbigh,  he  threw  a  look  of  fierceness 
at  the  latter,  which  he  meant  as  an  indication  of  his  hostile 
intentions.  It  was  lost  on  his  rival,  who  at  that  moment  was 
filled  with  passions  of  a  very  difi'erent  kind  from  those  which 
Captain  Jarvis  thought  agitated  his  own  bosom ;  for  had  his 
new  friend  let  him  alone,  the  captain  would  have  gone  quietly 
home  and  gone  to  sleep. 

"  Have  you  ever  fought  ?"  said  Captain  Digby  coolly  to  his 
companion,  as  they  seated  themselves  in  his  father's  parlor* 
whither  they  had  retired  to  make  their  arrangements  for  the 
following  morning. 

"  Yes,"  said  JarWs,  with  a  stupid  look,  "  I  fought  once 
with  Tom  Halliday  at  school." 

"  At  school !  My  dear  friend,  you  commenced  young 
indeed,"  said  Digby,  helping  himself  to  another  glass.  "  And 
bow  did  it  end  ?" 

"  Oh !  Tom  got  the  better,  and  so  I  cried  enough,"  said 
Jarvis,  surlily. 

"  Enough !  I  hope  you  did  not  flinch,"  eyeing  him  keenly 
"  Where  were  you  hit  ?" 

"  He  hit  me  all  over." 


PRECAUTION.  123 

**  All  over !  The  d — 1 !  Did  you  use  small  shot  ?  How 
did  you  fight  ?" 

'*  With  fists,"  said  J arvis,- yawning. 

His  companion,  seeing  how  matters  were,  rang  for  his 
servant  to  put  him  to  bed,  remaining  himself  an  hour  longer 
to  finish  the  bottle. 

Soon  after  Jarvis  had  given  Denbigh  the  look  big  with  hi 
ntended  vengeance,  Colonel  Egerton  appi-oached  Emily, 
asking  permission  to  present  Sir  Herbert  Nicholson,  the 
lieutenant-colonel  of  the  regiment,  and  a  gentleman  who  was 
ambitious  of  the  honor  of  her  acquaintance;  a  particular 
friend  of  his  own.  Emily  gracefully  bowed  her  assent.  Soon 
after,  turning  her  eyes  on  Denbigh,  who  had  been  speaking 
to  her  at  the  moment,  she  saw  him  looking  intently  on  the 
two  soldiers,  who  were  making  their  way  through  the  crowd 
to  the  place  where  she  sat.  He  stammered,  said  something 
she  could  not  understand,  and  precipitately  withdrew ;  and 
although  both  she  and  her  aunt  sought  his  figure  in  the  gay 
throng  that  flitted  around  them,  he  was  seen  no  more  that 
evening. 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Denbigh  ?"  said  Emily  to  her 
partner,  after  looking  in  vain  to  find  his  person  in  the  crowd. 

"  Denbigh !  Denbigh  !  I  have  known  one  or  two  of  that 
name/'  replied  the  gentleman.  '•  In  the  army  there  are 
several." 

"  Yes,"  said  Emily,  musing,  "  he  is  in  the  army ;"  and 
looking  up,  she  saw  her  companion  reading  her  countenance 
with  an  expression  that  brought  the  color  to  her  cheeks  with 
a  glow  that  was  painful.  Sir  Herbert  smiled,  and  observed 
that  the  room  was  warm.  Emily  acquiesced  in  the  remark, 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life  conscious  of  a  feeling  she  was 
ashamed  to  have  scrutinized,  and  glad  of  aay  excuse  to  hide 
her  confusion. 


124  PRECAUTION. 

"  Grace  Chatterton  is  really  beautiful  to-night,"  whispered 
John  Moseley  to  his  sister  Clara.  "  I  have  a  mind  to  ask 
lier  to  dance." 

*'  Do,  John."  replied  his  sister,  looking  with  pleasure  on 
her  beautiful  cousin,  who,  observing  the  movements  of  John 
as  he  drew  near  where  she  sat,  moved  her  face  on  each  side 
rapidly,  in  search  of  some  one  who  was  apparently  not  to  be 
found.  Her  breathing  became  sensibly  quicker,  and  John 
was  on  the  point  of  speaking  to  her  as  the  dowager  stepped 
in  between  them.  There  is  nothing  so  flattering  to  the  vanity 
of  a  man  as  the  discovery  of  emotions  in  a  young  woman 
excited  by  himself,  and  which  the  party  evidently  wishes  to 
conceal ;  there  is  nothing  so  touching,  so  sure  to  captivate ; 
or,  if  it  seem  to  be  affected,  so  sure  to  disgust. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Moseley,"  cried  the  mother,  "  you  shall  not 
ask  Grace  to  dance !  She  can  refuse  you  nothing,  and  she 
has  been  up  the  last  two  figures." 

"  Your  wishes  are  irresistible.  Lady  Chatterton,"  said 
John,  coolly  turning  on  his  heel.  On  gaining  the  other  side 
of  the  room,  he  turned  to  reconnoitre  the  scene.  The 
dowager  was  fanning  herself  as  violently  as  if  she  had  been 
up  the  last  two  figures  instead  of  her  daughter,  while  Grace 
sat  with  her  eyes  fastened  on  the  floor,  paler  than  usual. 
"  Grace,"  thought  the  young  man,  "would  be  very  handsome 
— very  sweet — very — very  everything  that  is  agreeable,  if — 
if  it  were  not  for  Mother  Chatterton."  He  then  led  out  one 
of  the  prettiest  girls  in  the  room. 

Col.  Egerton  was  peculiarly  fitted  to  shine  in  a  ball  room. 
He  danced  gracefully  and  with  spirit ;  was  perfectly  at  home 
with  all  the  usages  of  the  best';  society,  and  was  never  neg- 
lectful of  any  of  those  little  courtesies  which  have  their  charm 
for  the  moment ;  and  Jane  Moseley,  who  saw  all  those  she 
loved  around  her,  apparently  as  happy  as  hei-self,  found  in  her 


PRECAUTION.  125 

judgment  or  the  convictions  of  her  principles,  no  counterpoise 
ag-ainst  the  weight  of  such  attractions,  all  centred  as  it  were 
in  one  effort  to  please  herself.  His  flattery  was  deep  for  it 
was  respectful — his  tastes  were  her  tastes — his  opinions  her 
opinions.  On  the  formation  of  their  acquaintance  they  dif- 
fered on  some  trifling  point  of  poetical  criticism,  and  for  near 
a  month  the  colonel  had  maintained  his  opinion  with  a  show 
of  firmness  ;  but  opportunities  not  wanting  for  the  discussion, 
he  had  felt  constrained  to  yield  to  her  better  judgment,  her 
purer  taste.  The  conquest  of  Colonel  Egerton  was  complete, 
and  Jane  who  saw  in  his  attentions  the  submission  of  a  de- 
voted heart,  began  to  look  forward  to  the  moment  with 
trembling  that  was  to  remove  the  thin  barrier  that  existed 
between  the  adulation  of  the  eyes  and  the  most  delicate  assi- 
duity to  please,  and  the  open  confidence  of  declared  love. 
Jane  Moseley  had  a  heait  to  love,  and  to  love  strongly ;  hei 
danger  existed  in  her  imagination:  it  was  briUiant,  unchast- 
ened  by  her  judgment,  we  had  almost  said  unfettered  by  her 
principles.  Principles  such  as  are  found  in  every-day  maxims 
and  rules  of  conduct  sufficient  to  restrain  her  within  the 
bounds  of  perfect  decorum  she  was  furnished  with  in  abund- 
ance ;  but  to  that  principle  which  was  to  teach  her  submission 
in  opposition  to  her  wishes,  to  that  principle  that  could  alone 
afford  her  security  against  the  treachery  of  her  own  passions, 
she  was  an  utter  stranger. 

The  family  of  Sir  Edward  were  among  the  first  to  retire, 
and  as  the  Chattertons  had  their  own  carriage,  Mrs.  Wilson 
and  her  charge  returned  alone  in  the  coach  of  the  former. 
Emily,  who  had  been  rather  out  of  spirits  the  latter  part  of 
the  evenino;,  broke  the  silence  by  suddenlv  observinjr, 

"  Colonel  Egerton  is,  or  soon  will  be,  a  perfect  hero ! 

Her  aunt  somewhat  surprised,  both  with  the  abruptness 
and  with  the  strength  of  the  remark,  iijquired  her  meaning. 


126  PRECAUTION. 

'*  Oh,  Jane  will  make  him  one,  whether  or  not.'* 
This  was  spoken  with  an  air  of  vexation  which  she  was 
unused  to,  and  Mrs.  Wilson  gravely  corrected  her  for  speak- 
ing in  a  disrespectful  manner  of  her  sister,  one  whom  neither 
her  years  nor  situation  entitled  her  in  any  measm-e  to  advise 
or  control.  There  wa.s  an  impropriety  in  judging  so  near  and 
dear  a  relation  harshly,  even  in  thought.  Emily  pressed  the 
hand  of  her  aunt  and  tremulously  acknowledged  her  error ; 
but  she  added,  that  she  felt  a  momentary  irritation  at  the 
idea  of  a  man  of  Colonel  Egerton's  character  gaining  the 
command  over  feelings  such  as  her  sister  possessed.  Mrs. 
Wilson  kissed  the  cheek  of  her  niece,  while  she  inwardly  ac- 
knowledged the  probable  truth  of  the  very  remark  she  had 
thought  it  her  duty  to  censure.  That  the  imagination  of 
Jane  would  supply  her  lover  with  those  quahties  she  most 
honored  herself,  she  believed  was  taken  as  a  matter  of  course  ; 
and  that  when  the  veil  she  had  helped  to  throw  befcTre  her 
own  eyes  was  removed,  she  vvould  cease  to  respect,  and  of 
course  cease  to  love  him,  when  too  late  to  remedy  the  evil, 
she  greatly  feared.  But  in  the  approaching  fate  of  Jane  she 
gaw  new  cause  to  call  forth  her  own  activity. 

Emily  Moseley  had  just  completed  her  eighteenth  year,  and 
was  gifted  by  nature  with  a  vivacity  and  ardency  of  feeling 
that  gave  a  heightened  zest  to  the  enjoyments  of  that  happy 
age.  She  was  artless  but  intelligent ;  cheerful,  with  a  deep 
conviction  of  the  necessity  of  piety  ;  and  uniform  in  her  prac- 
tice of  all  the  important  duties.  The  unwearied  exertions  of 
her  aunt,  aided  by  her  own  quickness  of  perception,  had  made 
her  familiar  with  the  attainments  suitable  to  her  sex  and  years. 
For  music  she  had  no  taste,  and  the  time  which  would  hav6 
been  thrown  away  in  endeavoring  to  cultivate  a  talent  she  did 
not  possess,  was  dedicated  under  the  discreet  guidance  of  her 
aunt,  to  works  whicji  had  a  tendency  both  to  qualify  her  for 


PRECAUTION.  127 

the  duties  of  this  life,  and  fit  her  for  that  which  comes  liere- 
after.  It  might  be  said  Emily  Moseley  had  iievei  read  a  book 
that  contained  a  sentiment  or  inculcated  an  opinion  improper 
for  her  sex  or  dangerous  to  her  morals ;  and  it  was  not  diffi- 
cult for  those  who  knew  the  fact,  to  fancy  they  could  perceive 
the  consequences  in  her  guileless  countenance  and  innocent 
deportment.  Her  looks — her  actions — her  thoughts,  wore  as. 
much  of  nature  as  the  discipline  of  her  well-regulated  mind 
and  softened  manners  could  admit.  In  person  she  was  of  the 
middle  size,  exquisitely  formed,  graceful  and  elastic  in  her 
step,  without,  however,  the  least  departure  from  her  natural 
movements  ;  her  eye  was  a  dark  blue,  with  an  expression  of 
joy  and  intelligence  ;  at  times  it  seemed  all  soul,  and  again 
all  heart ;  her  color  was  rather  high,  but  it  varied  with  every 
emotion  of  her  bosom ;  her  feelings  were  sti'ong,  ardent,  and 
devoted  to  those  she  loved.  Her  preceptress  had  never  found 
it  necessary  to  repeat  an  admonition  of  any  kind,  since  her 
arrival  at  years  to  discriminate  between  the  right  and  the 
wrong. 

"  I  wish,"  said  Doctor  Ives  to  his  wife,  the  evening  his  son 
had  asked  their  permission  to  address  Clara,  "Francis  had 
chosen  my  little  Emily." 

*'  Clara  is  a  good  girl,"  replied  his  wife ;  "  she  is  so  mild, 
BO  aftectionate,  that  I  doubt  not  she  will  make  him  happy — 
Frank  might  have  done  worse  at  the  Hall." 

"For  himself  he  has  done  well,  I  hope,"  said  the  father: 
*'  a  young  w^oman  of  Clara's  heart  may  make  any  man  happy; 
but  a  union  with  purity,  sense,  principles,  like  those  of  Emily 
would  be  more — it  would  be  blissful." 

Mrs.  Ives  smiled  at  her  husband's  animation.  "  You 
remind  me  more  of  the  romantic  youth  I  once  knew  than 
of  the  grave  divine.  There  is  but  one  man  I  know  that 
1  could  wish  to  give  Emily  to ;  it  is  Lumley.     If  Lumley 


128  PRECAUTION. 

sees  her,  he  will  woo  her;  and  if  he  wooes,  he  will  win 
her." 

"  And  Lumley  I  believe  to  be  worthy  of  her,"  cried  the 
rector,  now  taking  up  a  candle  to  retu-e  for  the  night 


PRECAUTION.  129 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  following  day  brought  a  large  party  of  the  military 
elegants  to  the  Hall,  in  acceptance  of  the  baronet's  hospitable 
invitation  to  dinner.  Lady  Moseley  was  delighted ;  so  long 
as  her  husband's  or  her  children's  interest  had  demanded  a 
sacrifice  of  her  love  of  society  it  had  been  made  without  a 
sigh,  almost  without  a  thought.  The  ties  of  affinity  in  her 
were  sacred ;  and  to  the  happiness,  the  comfort  of  those  in 
which  she  felt  an  interest,  there  were  few  sacrifices  of  her 
own  propensities  she  would  not  cheerfully  have  made :  it  was 
this  very  love  of  her  offspring  that  made  her  anxious  to  dis- 
pose of  her  daughters  in  wedlock.  Her  own  marriage  had 
been  so  happy,  that  she  naturally  concluded  it  the  state  most 
likely  to  ensure  the  happiness  of  her  children ;  and  with 
Lady  Moseley,  as  with  thousands  of  others,  who  averse  or 
unequal  to  the  labors  of  investigation,  jump  to  conclusions 
over  the  long  hne  of  connecting  reasons,  marriage  was  mar- 
riage, a  husband  was  a  husband.  It  is  true  there  wefe  cer- 
tain indispensables,  without  which  the  formation  of  a  con- 
nexion was  a  thing  she  considered  not  within  the  bounds  of 
nature.  There  must  be  fitness  in  fortune,  in  condition,  in 
education,  and  manners ;  there  must  be  no  glaiing  evil,  al- 
though she  did  not  ask  for  positive  good.  A  professor  of 
religion  herself,  had  any  one  told  her  it  was  a  duty  of  hei 
calling  to  guard  against  a  connexion  with  any  but  a  Christian 
for  her  girls,  she  would  have  wondered  at  the  ignorance  that 
would  embarrass  the  married  state,  with  feelings  exclusively 
belonging  ta  the  individual.     Had  any  one  told  her  it  were 

6* 


130  VRSCAUTION. 

possible  to  give  her  child  to  any  but  a  gentleman,  she  would 
have  wondered  at  the  want  of  feeling  that  could  devote  the 
softness  of  Jane  or  Emily,  to  the  association  with  rudeness  or 
vulgarity.  It  was  the  misfortune  of  Lady  Moseley  to  limit  her 
views  of  marriage  to  the  scene  of  this  life,  forgetful  that  every 
union  gives  existence  to  a  long  hne  of  immortal  beings,  whose 
future  welfare  depends  greatly  on  the  force  of  early  exarapJ^^s, 
or  the  strength  of  early  impressions. 

The  necessity  for  restriction  in  their  expenditures  had 
ceased,  and  the  baronet  and  his  wife  greatly  enjoyed  the  first 
opportunity  their  secluded  situation  had  given  them,  to  draw 
around  their  board  their  fellow- creatures  of  their  own  stamp. 
In  the  former,  it  was  pure  philanthropy ;  the  same  feeling 
urged  him  to  seek  out  and  relieve  distress  in  humble  life ; 
while  in  the  latter  it  was  love  of  station  and  seemliness.  It 
was  becoming  the  owner  of  Moseley  Hall,  and  it  was  what 
the  daughters  of  the  Benfield  family  had  done  since  the  con- 
quest. 

"  I  am  extremely  sorry,"  said  the  good  baronet  at  dinner, 
"  Mr.  Denbigh  declined  our  invitation  to-day ;  I  hope  he  will 
yet  ride  over  in  the  evening." 

Looks  of  a  singular  import  were  exchanged  between  Co- 
lonel Egerton  and  Sir  Herbert  Nicholson,  at  the  mention  of 
Denbigh's  name;  which,  as  the  latter  had  just  asked  the 
favor  of  taking  wine  with  Mrs.  Wilson,  did  not  escape  her 
notice.  Emily  had  mnocently  mentioned  his  precipitate  re- 
treat the  pight  before;  and  he  had,  when  reminded  of  his 
engagement  to  dine  with  them  that  very  day,  and  promised 
an  introduction  to  Sir  Herbert  Nicholson  by  John,  in  her  pre- 
sence, suddenly  excused  himself  and  withdrawn.  With  an 
indefinite  suspicion  of  something  wrong,  she  ventured,  there- 
fore, to  address  Sir  Herbert  Nicholson. 

"  Did  ^ou  know  Mr.  Denbigh,  in  Spain  2'- 


PRECAUTION.  ini 

"  I  told  Miss  Emily  Moseley,  I  believe,  last  evening,  that  1 
knew  some  of  the  name,"  replied  the  gentleman  evasively  ; 
then  pausing  a  moment,  he  added  with  g^eat  emphasis,  "  thei  e 
is  a  circumstance  connected  witii  one  of  that  name,  I  shall 
ever  remember." 

"It  was  creditable,  no  doubt,  Sir  Herbert,"  cried  young 
'arvis,  sarcastically.  The  soldier  affected  not  to  hear  the 
question,  and  asked  Jane  to  take  wine  with  him.  Lord  Chat- 
terton,  however,  putting  his  knife  and  fork  down  gravely,  and 
with  a  glow  of  animation,  observed  with  unusual  spirit, 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  was,  sir." 

Jarvis  in  his  turn,  affected  not  to  hear  this  speech,  and  no- 
thing farther  was  said,  as  Sir  Edward  saw  that  the  name  of 
Mr.  Denbigh  excited  a  sensation  amongst  his  guests  for  which 
he  was  unable  to  account,  and  which  he  soon  foigot  himself. 

After  the  company  had  retired.  Lord  Chatterton,  however, 
related  to  the  astonished  and  indignant  family  of  the  baronet 
the  substance  of  the  following  scene,  of  which  he  had  b«en  a 
witness  that  morning,  while  on  a  visit  to  Denbigh  at  the  rec- 
tory. They  had  been  sitting  in  the  parlor  by  themselves,  over 
their  breakfast,  when  a  Captain  Digby  was  announced. 

"I  have  the  honor  of  waiting  upon  you,  Mr.  Denbigh," 
said  the  soldier,  with  the  stiff  formality  of  a  professed  duelHfc, 
"  on  behalf  of  Captain  Jarvis,  but  will  postpone  my  business 
until  you  are  at  leisure,"  glancing  his  eye  on  Chatterton. 

"  I  know  of  no  business  with  Captain  Jarvis,"  said  Denbigh, 
j)()litely  handing  the  stranger  a  chair,  "to  which  Lord  Chat- 
terton cannot  be  privy ;  if  he  will  excuse  the  interruption. 
The  nobleman  bowed,  and  Captain  Digby,  a  httle  awed  by 
the  rank  of  Denbigh's  friend,  proceeded  in  a  more  measured 
manner. 

"  Captain  Jarvis  has  empowered  me,  sir,  to  make  any  ar- 
rangement with  yourself  or  friend,  previously  to  your  meet- 


132  PRECAUTION. 

ing,  which  he  hopes  may  be  as  soon  as  possible,  if  convenient 
to  yourself,"  replied  the  soldier,  coolly. 

Denbigh  viewed  him  for  a  moment  with  astonishment,  in 
silence  ;  when  recollecting  himself,  he  said  mildly,  and  with- 
out the  least  agitation,  "  I  cannot  affect,  sir,  not  to  understand 
your  meaning,  but  am  at  a  loss  to  imagine  what  act  of  mine 
can  have  made  Mr.  Jarvis  wish  to  make  such  an  appeal." 

"  Surely  Mr.  Denbigh  cannot  think  a  man  of  Captain  Jar- 
vis's  spirit  can  quietly  submit  to  the  indignity  put  upon  him 
last  evening,  by  your  dancing  with  Miss  Moseley,  after  she 
had  declined  the  honor  to  himself,"  said  the  captain,  affecting 
an  incredulous  smile.  "  My  Lord  Chatterton  and  myself  can 
easily  settle  the  preliminaries,  as  Captain  Jarvis  is  much  dis- 
posed to  consult  your  wishes,  sir,  in  this  affair." 

*'  If  he  consults  my  wishes,"  said  Denbigh,  smiling,  "  he 
will  think  no  more  about  it." 

"At  what  time,  sir,  will  it  be  convenient  to  give  him  the 
meeting  ?"  then,  speaking  with  a  kind  of  bravado  gentlemen 
of  his  cast  are  fond  of  assuming,  "  my  friend  would  not  huriy 
any  settlement  of  your  affairs." 

"  I  can  never  meet  Captain  Jarvis  with  hostile  intentions," 
replied  Denbigh,  calmly. 
l^"Sir!" 

"  I  decline  the  combat,  sir,"  said  Denbigh,  with  more 
firmness. 

"  Your  reasons,  sir,  if  you  please  ?"  asked  Captain  Digby 
compressing  his  lips,  and  drawing  up  with  an  air  of  persona, 
interest. 

"  Surely,"  cried  Chatterton,  who  had  with  difficulty 
cstrained  his  feelings,  "  surely  Mr.  Denbigh 'could  never  so 
far  foi'get  himself  as  cruelly  to  expose  Miss  Moseley  by 
accepting  this  invitation." 

"Your   reason,   my   lord,"   said    Denbigh,  with   inter^bst 


PRECAUTION.  133 

''would  at  all  times  have  its  weight;  but  I  wish  not  to 
qualify  an  act  of  what  I  conceive  to  be  principle  by  any  lesser 
consideration.  I  cannot  meet  Captain  Jarvis,  or  any  other 
man,  in  private  combat.  There  can  exist  no  necessity  for  an 
appeal  to  arms  in  any  society  where  the  laws  rule,  and  I  am 
averse  to  bloodshed.'' 

"  Very  extraordinary,"  muttered  Captain  Digby,  somewhat 
at  a  loss  how  to  act ;  but  the  calm  and  collected  manner  o£ 
Denbigh  prevented  a  reply;  and  after  declining  a  cup  of  tea, 
a  hquor  he  never  drank,  he  withdrew,  saying  he  would 
acquaint  his  friend  with  Mr.  Denbigh's  singular  notions. 

Captain  Digby  had  left  Jarvis  at  an  inn,  about  half  a  mile 
from  the  rectory,  for  the  convenience  of  receiving  early  infor- 
mation of  the  result  of  his  conference.  The  young  man  had 
walked  up  and  down  the  room  during  Digby's  absence,  in  a 
train  of  reflections  entirely  new  to  him.  He  was  the  only 
son  of  his  aged  father  and  mother,  the  protector  of  his  sisters, 
and,  he  might  say,  the  sole  hope  of  a  rising  family ;  and  then, 
possibly,  Denbigh  might  not  have  meant  to  offend  him — he 
might  even  have  been  engaged  before  they  came  to  the  house ; 
or  if  not,  it  might  have  been  inadvertence  on  the  part  of  Miss 
Moseley.  That  Denbigh  would  offer  some  explanation  he 
believed,  and  he  had  fully  made  up  his  mind  to  accept  it,  let 
it  be  what  it  might,  as  his  fighting  friend  entered. 

*'  Well,"  said  Jarvis,  in  a  tone  that  denoted  anything  but 
a  consciousness  that  all  was  well.. 

"He  says  he  will  not  meet  you,"   dryly  exclaimed  his 
friend,  throwing  himself  into  a  chair,  and  ordering  a  glass  of 
randy  and  water. 

"  Not  meet  me  !"  exclaimed  Jarvis,  in  surprise,  **  Engaged, 
perhaps  ?" 

"  Eno-ao-ed  to  his  d — d  conscience." 

"  To  his  conscience !      I  do  not  know  whether  I  rightly 


1 84  PRECAUTION. 

nnderstand  you,  Captain  Digby,"  said  Jarvis,  catching  his 
breath,  and  raising  his  voice  a  very  httle. 

"  Then,  Captain  Jarvis,"  said  his  friend,  tossing  off  his 
brandy,  and  speaking  with  great  dehberation,  "  he  says  that 
nothing — understand  yne — nothing  will  ever  make  him  figh 
\  duel." 

j     "He  will  not \"  rried  Jarvis,  in  a  loud  voice. 
^    "  No,  he  will  rot,"  said  Digby,  handing  his  glass  to  the 
^^aiter  for  a  fresK  supply. 

"He  shall,  by !" 

"  I  don't  ki^ow  how  you  will  make  him." 

«'  Make  him !     I'll— I'll  post  him." 

"  Never  do  that,"  said  the  captain,  turning  to  him,  as  he 
leaned  his  ♦'-Ibows  on  the  table.  "It  only  makes  both  parties 
ridiculous.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  you  may  do.  There's  a 
Lord  Ohatterton  who  takes  the  matter  up  with  warmth.  If 
I  were  not  afraid  of  his  interests  hurting  my  promotion,  I 
should  have  resented  something  that  fell  from  him  myself. 
He  will  fight,  I  dare  say,  and  I'll  just  return  and  require  an 
explanation  of  his  -words  on  your  behalf." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Jarvis,  rather  hastily  ;  "  he — he  is  related 
to  the  Moseleys,  and  I  have  views  there  it  might  injure." 

"  Did  you  think  to  forward  your  views  by  making  the 
young  lady  the  subject  of  a  duel?"  asked  Captain  Digby 
sarcastically,  and  eyeing  his  companion  with  contempt. 

*'  Yes,  yes,"  said  Jarvis ;  *'  it  would  certainly  hurt  my 
views." 

"  Here's  to  the  health  of  His  Majesty's  gallant regi 

ment  of  foot !"  cried  Captain  Digby,  in  a  tone  of  irony,  whea 
tliree-quarters  drunk,  at  the  mess-table,  that  evening,  "  and 
to  its  champion.  Captain  Henry  Jarvis !" 

One  of  the  corps  was  present  accidentally  as  a  guest ;  and 
the  following  week,  the  inhabitants  of  F saw  the  regi- 


PRECAUTION.  1^5 

ment  in  their  barracks,  marching  to  slow  time  after  the  body 
of  Horace  Digby. 

Lord  Chatterton,  in  relating  the  part  of  the  foregoing  cir- 
cumstances which  fell  under  his  observation,  did  ample  justice 
to  the  conduct  of  Denbigh  ;  a  degree  of  liberality  which  did 
him  no  little  credit,  as  he  plainly  saw  in  that  gentleman  he 
had,  or  soon  would  have,  a  rival  in  the  dearest  wish  of  his 
heart ;  and  the  smiling  approbation  with  which  his  cousin 
Emily  rewarded  him  for  his  candor  almost  sickened  him  with 
apprehension.  The  ladies  were  not  slow  in  expressing  their 
disgust  at  the  conduct  of  Jarvis,  or  backward  in  their  approval 
of  Denbigh's  forbearance.  Lady  Moseley  turned  with  horror 
from  a  picture  in  which  she  could  see  nothing  but  murder 
and  bloodshed ;  but  both  Mrs.  Wilson  and  her  niece  secretly 
applauded  a  sacrifice  of  worldly  feelings  on  the  altar  of  duty ; 
the  former  admiring  the  consistent  refusal  of  admitting  any 
collateral  inducements,  in  explanation  of  his  decision :  the 
latter,  while  she  saw  the  act  in  its  true  colors,  could  hardly 
help  believing  that  a  regard  for  her  feelings  had,  in  a  trifling 
degree,  its  influence  in  inducing  him  to  decline  the  meeting. 
Mrs.  Wilson  saw  at  once  what  a  hold  such  unusual  conduct 
would  take  on  the  feelings  of  her  niece,  and  inwardly 
determined  to  increase,  if  possible,  the  watchfulness  she  had 
invariably  observed  on  all  he  said  or  did,  as  likely  to  elucidate 
his  real  character,  well  knowing  that  the  requisites  to  bring 
or  to  keep  happiness  in  the  married.state  were  numerous  and 
indispensable  ;  and  that  the  display  of  a  part'cular  excellence, 
however  good  in  itself,  was  by  no  means  conclusive  as  to 
character ;  in  short,  that  we  perhaps  as  often  meet  with  a 
favorite  principle  as  with  a  besetting  sin. 


136  PRECAUTION, 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Sir  Edward  Moseley  had  some  difficulty  in  restraining 
the  impetuosity  of  his  son,  who  was  disposed  to  resent  this 
impertinent  interference  of  young  Jarvis  with  the  conduct  of 
his  favorite  sister ;  indeed,  the  young  man  only  yielded  to 
his  profound  respect  to  his  father's  commands,  aided  by  a 
strong  representation  on  the  part  of  his  sister  of  the  disagree- 
able consequences  of  connecting  her  name  with  such  a  quarrel. 
It  was  seldom  the  good  baronet  felt  himself  called  on  to  act 
as  decidedly  as  on  the  present  occasion.  He  spoke  to  the 
merchant  in  warm,  but  gentleman-like  terms,  of  the  conse- 
quences which  might  have  resulted  to  his  own  child  from  the 
intemperate  act  of  his  son ;  exculpated  Emily  entirely  from 
censure,  by  explaining  her  engagement  to  dance  with  Den- 
bigh, previously  to  Captain  Jarvis's  application ;  and  hinted 
the  necessity,  if  the  affair  was  not  amicably  terminated,  of 
protecting  the  peace  of  mind  of  his  daughters  against  any 
similar  exposures,  by  declining  the  acquaintance  of  a  neighbor 
he  respected  as  much  as  Mr.  Jarvis. 

The  merchant  was  a  man  of  few  words,  but  of  great 
promptitude.  He  had  made  his  fortune,  and  more  than  one 
saved  it,  by  his  decision  ;  and  assuring  the  baronet  he  shoul 
hear  no  more  of  it,  he  took  his  hat  and  hurried  home  from 
the  village,  where  the  conversation  passed.  On  arriving  at 
his  own  house,  he  found  the  family  collected  in  the  parlor  for 
a  morning  ride,  and  throwing  himself  into  a  chair,  he  broke 
out  on  the  whole  party  with  great  violence. 

*'  hio,  Mrs.  Jarvis,"  he   ciied,    "  you   would  spoil  a  ver3 


PRECAUTION.  -  13'J 

tolerable  book-keeper,  by  wishing  to  have  a  soldier  in  your 
family ;  and  there  stands  the  pnppy  who  would  have  blown 
out  the  brains  of  a  deserving  young  man,  if  the  good  sense 
of  Mr.  Denbigh  had  not  denied  him  the  opportunity." 

"  Mercy !"  cried  the  alarmed  matron,  on  whom  Newgate 
^for  her  early  life  had  been  passed  near  its  walls),  with  all 
1  s  horrors,  floated,  and  a  contemplation  of  its'  punishments 
Lad  been  her  juvenile  lessons  of  morahty — "  Harry  !  Harry  ! 
would  you  commit  murder  ?" 

"  Murder  !"  echoed  her  son,  looking  askance,  as  if  dodging 
the  bailiffs.  "No,- mother;  I  wanted  nothing  but  what  was 
fair.  Mr.  Denbigh  would  have  had  an  equal  chance  to 
blow  out  my  brains ;  I  am  sure  everything  would  have  been 
fair." 

'*  Equal  chance !"  muttered  his  father,  who  had  cooled 
himself,  in  some  measure,  by  an  extra  pinch  of  snuff.  *'  No, 
sir,  you  have  no  brains  to  lose.  But  I  have  promised  Sir 
Edward  that  you  shall  make  proper  apologies  to  himself,  to 
his  daughter,  and  to  Mr.  Denbigh."  This  was  rather 
exceeding  the  truth,  but  the  alderman  prided  himself  on 
performing  rather  more  than  he  promised. 

"  Apology  !"  exclaimed  the  captain.  "  Why,  sir,  the 
apology  is  due  to  me.  Ask  Colonel  Egerton  if  he  ever 
heard  of  apologie"s  being  made  by  the  challenger." 

"  No,  sure,"  said  the  mother,  who,  having  made  out  the 
truth  of  the  matter,  thought  it  was  likely  enough  to  be 
creditable  to  her  child ;  "  Colonel  Egerton  never  heard  of 
such  a  thing.     Did  you,  colonel  ?" 

"  Why,  madam,"  said  the  colonel,  hesitatingly,  and  politely 
landing  the  merchant  his  snuff-box,  which,  in  his  agitation, 
had  fallen  on  the  floor,  "  circumstances  sometimes  justify  a 
departure  from  ordinary  measures.  You  are  certainly  right 
as  a  rule ;    but  nofc  knowing  the  particulars  in  the  present 


138  PRECAUTION. 

case,  it  is  difficult  for  me  to  decide.     Miss  Jarvis,  the  tilbury 
is  ready." 

The  colonel  bowed  respectfully  to  the  merchant,  kissed  his 
hand  to  his  wife,  and  led  their  daughter  to  his  carriage. 

"  Do  you  make  the  apologies  ?"  asked  Mr.  Jarvis,  as  th 
door  closed. 

"  No,  sir,'^  replied  the  captain,  sullenly 

*'  Then  you  must  make  your  pay  answer  for  the  next  six 
months,"  cried  the  father,  taking  a  signed  draft  on  his  banker 
from  his  pocket,  coolly  tearing  it  in  two  pieces,  carefully 
putting  the  name  in  his  mouth,  and  chewing  it  into  a  ball. 

"  Why,  aldernian,"  said  his  wife  (a  name  she  never  used 
unless  she  had  something  to  gain  from  her  spouse,  who  loved 
to  hear  the  appellation  after  he  had  relinquished  the  office), 
"  it  appears  to  me  that  Harry  has  shown  nothing  but  a  proper 
spirit.     You  are  unkind — indeed  you  are." 

"  A  proper  spirit  ?  In  what  way  ?  Do  you  know  any- 
thing of  the  matter  ?" 

"  It  is  a  proper  spirit  for  a  soldier  to  fight,  I  suppose,"  said 
the  wife,  a  little  at  a  loss  to  explain. 

"  Spirit,  or  no  spirit,  apology,  or  ten  and  sixpence.'* 

"Harry,"  said  his  mother,  holding  up  her  finger  in  a 
menacing  attitude,  as  soon  as  her  husband  had  left  the  room 
(for  he  had  last  spoken  with  the  door  in  his  hand),  "  if  you 
do  beg  his  pardon,  you  are  no  son  of  mine." 

"  No,"  cried  Miss  Sarah,  "  nor  any  brother  of  mine.  Jt 
would  be  insufferably  mean." 

"  Who  will  pay  my  debts  ?"  asked  the  son,  looking  up  at 
the  ceiling. 

"  W  hy,  I  would,  my  child,  if — if — I  had  not  spent  my 
own  allowance." 

"  I  would,"  echoed  the  sister ;  "  but  if  we  go  to  Bath,  you 
know,  I  shall  want  all  my  money." 


PRECAUTION.  139 

"  Who  will  pay  my  debts  ?"  repeated  the  son. 

"  Apology,   indeed !      Who   is  he,   that   you,  a  son  of 

A-lderman — of — Mr.  Jarvis,  of  the  deanery,  B ,  North 

amptonshire,  should  beg  his  pardon — a  vagrant  that  nobody 
knows !" 

"  Who  will  pay  my  debts  ?"  again  inquired  the  captain, 
drumming  with  his  foot." 

"  Harry,"  exclaimed  the  mother,  "  do  you  love  money 
better  than  honor — a  soldier's  honor  ?" 

"No,  mother;  but  I  like  good  eating  and  drinking.  Think 
mother ;  it's  a  cool  five  hundred,  and  that's  a  famous  deal  of 
money." 

"Harry,"  cried  the  mother,  in  a  rage,  "you  are  not  fit  for 
a  soldier.     I  wish  I  "were  in  your  place." 

"  I  wish,  with  all  my  heart,  you  had  been  for  an  hour  this 
morning,"  thought  the  son.  x\fter  arguing  for  some  time 
longer,  they  compromised,  by  agreeing  to  leave  it  to  the 
decision  of  Colonel  Egerton,  who,  the  mother  did  not  doubt, 
would  applaud  her  maintaining  the  Jarvis  dignity,  a  family 
in  which  he  took  quite  as  much  interest  as  he  felt  for  his 
own — so  he  had  told  her  fifty  times.  The  captain,  however, 
determined  within  himself  to  touch  the  five  hundred,  let  the 
colonel  decide  as  he  might ;  but  the  colonel's  decision  obviated 
all  difficulties.  The  question  was  put  to  him  by  Mrs.  Jarvis, 
on  his  return  from  the  airing,  with  no  doubt  the  decision 
would  be  favorable  to  her  opinion.  The  colonel  and  herself, 
she  said,  never  disagreed ;  and  the  Jady  was  right — for 
wherever  his  interest  made  it  desirable  to  convert  Mrs.  Jarvi 
to  his  side  of  the  question,  Egerton  had  a  manner  of  doing  it 
that  never  fiiiled  to  succeed. 

**  Why,  madam,"  said  he,  with  one  of  his  mo-t  agreeable 
smiles,  "apologies  are  different  things,  at  different  times. 
You  are  certainly  right  in  your  sentiments,  as  relates  to  a 


140  PRECAUTION. 

proper  spirit  in  a  soldier ;  but  no  one  can  doubt  the  spirit  of 
the  captain,  after  the  stand  he  took  in  this  affair ;  if  Mr.  Den- 
bigh would  not  meet  him  (a  very  extraoi'dinary  measure,  in 
deed,  I  confess),  what  can  your  son  do  more  ?  He  cannot 
make  a  man  fight  against  his  will,  you  know." 

*'  True,  true,"  cried  the  matron,  impatiently,  "  I  do  not 
want  him  to  fight ;  heaven  forbid  !  but  why  should  he,  the 
challenger,  beg  pardon  ?  I  am  sure,  to  have  the  thing  regu- 
lar, Mr.  Denbigh  is  the  one  to  ask  forgiveness." 

The  colonel  felt  at  a  little  loss  how  to  reply,  when  Jarvis, 
in  whom  the  thoughts  of  the  five  hundred  pounds  had  worked 
a  revolution,  exclaimed — 

"  You  know,  mother,  I  accused  him — that  is,  I  suspected 
him  of  dancing  with  Miss  Moseley  against  my  right  to  her ; 
now  you  find  that  it  was  all  a  mistake,  and  so  I  had  better 
act  with  dignity,  and  confess  my  error." 

"  Oh,  by  all  means,"  cried  the  colonel,  who  saw  the  danger 
of  an  embarrassing  rupture  between  the  families,  otherwise: 
*'  delicacy  to  your  sex  particularly  requires  that,  ma'am, 
from  your  son ;"  and  he  accidentally  dropped  a  letter  as  he 
spoke. 

"From  Sir  Edgar,  colonel?"  asked  Mrs.  Jarvis^  as  he 
stooped  to  pick  it  up. 

*'  From  Sir  Edgar,  ma'am,  and  he  begs  to  be  remembered 
to  yourself  and  all  of  your  amiable  family." 

Mrs.  Jarvis  inclined  her  body,  in  what  she  intended  for  a 
graceful  bend,  and  sighed — a  casual  observer  might  have 
^bought,  with  maternal  anxiety  for  the  reputation  of  her  child 
—but  it  was  conjugal  regret,  that  the  political  obstinacy  of 
the  alderman  had  prevented  his  carrying  up  an  address,  and 
thus  becoming  Sir  Timothy.  Sir  Edgar's  heir  prevailed,  and 
the  captain  received  permission  to  do  what  he  had  done 
several  hours  before. 


PRECAUTION.  141 

On  leaving  the  room,  after  the  first  discussion,  and  before 
the  appeal,  the  captain  had  hastened  to  his  father  with  his 
concessions.  The  old  gentleman  knew  too  well  the  influence 
of  five  hundred  pounds  to  doubt  the  effect  in  the  present  in 
stance,  and  he  had  ordered  his  carriage  for  the  excursion 
It  came,  and  to  the  hall  they  proceeded.  The  captain  found 
his  intended  antagonist,  and  in  a  rather  uncouth  manner,  he 
made  the  required  concession.  He  was  restored  to  his  former 
favor — no  great  distinction — and  his  visits  to  the  hall  were 
suflered,  but  wnth  a  dislike  Emily  could  never  conquer,  nor 
at  all  times  conceal. 

Denbigh  was  occupied  with  a  book,  when  Jarvis  com- 
menced his  speech  to  the  baronet  and  his  daughter,  and  was 
apparently  too  much  engaged  with  its  contents,  to  understand 
what  was  going  on,  as  the  captain  blundered  through.  It 
was  necessary,  the  captain  saw  by  a  glance  of  his  father's 
eyes,  to  say  something  to  that  gentleman,  who  had  delicately 
withdrawn  to  a  distant  w'indow.  His  speech  was  conse- 
quently made  here  too,  and  Mrs.  Wilson  could  not  avoid 
stealing  a  look  at  them.  Denbigh  smiled,  and  bowed  in 
silence.  It  is  enough,  thought  the  widow  ;  the  offence  was 
not  against  hira,  it  was  against  his  Maker;  he  should. not  ar- 
rogate to  himself,  in  any  manner,  the  right  to  forgive,  or  to 
require  apologies — the  whole  is  consistent.  The  subject  was 
never  afterwards  alluded  to  :  Denbigh  appeared  to  have  for- 
gotten it ;  and  Jane  sighed  gently,  as  she  devoutly  hoped  the 
colonel  was  not  a  duellist. 

Several  days  passed  before  the  deanery  ladies  could  suffi- 
ciently forgive  the  indignity  their  family  had  sustained,  to 
resume  the  customary  intercourse.  Like  all  other  grievances, 
where  the  passions  are  chiefly  interested,  it  was  forgotten  in 
time,  however,  and  things  were  put  in  some  measure  on  their 
former  footing.     The  death  of  Digby  served  to  increase  the 


142  PHECAUTION. 

horror  of  the  Moseleys,  and  Jar\'is  himself  felt  rather  uncom- 
fortable, on  more  accounts .  than  one,  at  the  fatal  termination 
of  the  unpleasant  business. 

Chatterton,  who  to  his  friends  had  not  hesitated  to  avow 
his  attachment  to  his  cousin,  but  who  had  never  proposed  for 
her,  as  his  present  views  and  fortune  were  not,  in  his  estima- 
tion, sufficient  for  her  proper  support,  had  pushed  every  in 
terest  he  possessed,  and  left  no  steps  unattempted  an  honor- 
able man  could  resort  to,  to  effect  his  object.  The  desire  to 
provide  for  his  sisters  had  been  backed  by  the  ardor  of  a 
passion  that  had  reached  its  crisis ;  and  the  young  peer  who 
could  not,  in  the  present  state  of  things,  abandon  the  field  to 
a  rival  so  formidable  as  Denbigh,  even  to  further  his  views  to 
preferment,  was  waiting  in  anxious  suspense  the  decision  on 
his  application.  A  letter  from  his  friend  informed  him,  his 
opponent  was  likely  to  succeed ;  that,  in  short,  all  hopes  of 
success  had  left  him.  Chatterton  was  in  despair.  On  the 
following  day,  however,  he  received  a  second  letter  from  the 
same  friend,  unexpectedly  announcing  his  appointment. 
After  mentioning  the  fact,  he  went  on  to  say — "  The  cause  of 
this  sudden  revolution  in  your  favor  is  unknown  to  me,  and 
unless  j^our  lordship  has  obtained  interest  I  am  ignorant  of, 
it  is  one  of  the  most  singular  instances  of  ministerial  caprice 
I  have  ever  known."  Chatterton  was  as  much  at  a  loss  as 
his  friend,  to  understand  the  affair ;  but  it  mattered  not ;  he 
could  now  oflfer  to  Emily — it  was  a  patent  office  of  great 
value,  and  a  few  years  would  amply  portion  his  sisters.  That 
very  day,  therefore,  he  proposed,  and  was  refused. 

Emily  had  a  difficult  task  to  avoid  self-reproach,  in  regu 
lating  her  deportment  on  this  occasion.     She  was  fond  of 
Chatterton  as  a  relation — as  her  brother's  fiiend — as  the  bro 
ther  of  Grace,  and  even  on  his  own  account ;  but  it  was  the 
fondness  of  a  sister.     His  manner-  —his  words,  which,  although 


PRBCAUTION.  r43 

never  addressed  to  herself,  were  sometimes  overheard  uninten- 
tionally, and  sometimes  reached  her  through  lier  sisters,  had 
left  her  in  no  doubt  of  his  attachment ;  she  was  excessively 
grieved  at  the  discovery,  and  had  innocently  appealed  to  her 
aunt  for  directions  how  to  proceed.  Of  his  intentions  she  had 
no  doubt,  but  at  the  same  time  he  had  not  put  her  in  a  situa- 
tion to  dispel  his  hopes ;  as  to  encouragement,  in  the  usual 
meaning  of  the  term,  she  gave  none  to  him,  nor  to  any  one 
else.  There  are  no  little  attentions  that  lovers  are  fond  of 
showing  to  their  mistresses,  and  which  mistresses  are  fond  of 
receiving,  that  Emily  ever  permitted  to  any  gentleman — no 
rides — no  walks — no  tete-a-tetes.  Always  natural  and  un- 
affected, there  was  a  simple  dignity  about  her  that  forbade 
the  request,  almost  the  thought,  in  the  gentlemen  of  her  ac- 
quaintance :  she  had  no  amusements,  no  pleasures  of  any  kind 
in  which  her  sisters  were  not  her  companions ;  and  if  any- 
thing was  on  the  carpet  that  required  an,  attendant,  John 
was  ever  ready.  He  was  devoted  to  her ;  the  decided  pre- 
ference she  gave  him  over  every  other  man,  upon  such  occa- 
sions, flattered  his  affection;  and  he  would,  at  any  time, 
leave  even  Grace  Chatterton  to  attend  his  sister.  All  this 
too  was  without  aflfectation,  and  generally  without  notice. 
Emily  so  looked  the  delicacy  and  reserve  she  acted  with  so 
little  ostentation  that  not  even  her  own  sex  had  affixed  to 
her  conduct  the  epithet  of  squeamish ;  it  was  difficult,  there- 
fore, for  her  to  do  anything  which  would  show  Lord  Chat- 
terton her  disinchnation  to  his  suit,  without  assuming  a  dis- 
like she  did  not  feel,  or  giving  him  slights  that  neither  good 
breeding  nor  good  nature  could  justify.  At  one  time,  indeed, 
she  had  expressed  a  wish  to  return  to  Clai-a ;  but  this  Mrs. 
Wilson  thought  would  only  protract  the  evil,  and  she  was 
compelled  to  wait  his  own  time.  The  peer  himself  did  not 
lejoice  more  in  his  abihty  to  make  the  offer,  therefore,  than 


14^  PRECAUTION. 

Emily  did  to  have  it  in  her  power  to  dedine  it.  Her  rejec- 
tion was  firm  and  unquahSed,  but  uttered  with  a  grace  and  a 
tenderness  to  his  feehngs,  that  bound  her  .lover  tighter  than 
ever  in  her  chains,  and  he  resolved  on  immediate  flight  as  his 
only  recourse. 

"  I  hope  nothing  unpleasant  has  occurred  to  Lord  Chat* 
terton,"  said  Denbigh,  with  great  interest,  as  he  reached  the 
spot  where  the  young  peer  stood  leaning  his  head  against  a 
tree,  on  his  way  from  the  rectory  to  the  hall. 

Chatterton  raised  his  face  as  he  spoke :  there  were  evident 
traces  of  tears  on  it,  and  Denbigh,  greatly  shocked,  was  about 
to  proceed  as  the  other  caught  his  arm. 

"  Mr.  Denbigh,"  said  the  young  man,  in  a  voice  almost 
choked  with  emotion,  "  may  you  never  know  the  pain  I  have 
felt  this  morning.  Emily — Emily  Moseley — is  lost  to  me — 
for  ever." 

For  a  moment  the  blood  rushed  to  the  face  of  Denbigh, 
and  his  eyes  flashed  with  a  look  that  Chatterton  could  not 
stand.  ■  He  turned,  as  the  voice  of  Denbigh,  in  those 
remarkable  tones  which  distinguished  it  from  every  other 
voice  he  had  ever  heard,  uttered — 

"  Chatterton,  my  lord,  we  are  friends,  I  hope — I  wish  it, 
from  my  heart." 

"  Go,  Mr.  Denbigh — go.  You  were  going  to  Miss  Moseley 
— do  not  let  me  detain  you." 

"  I  am  going  with  you^  Lord  Chatterton,  unless  you  forbid 
it,"  said  Denbigh,  with  emphasis,  slipping  his  arm  through 
that  of  the  peer. 

For  two  hours  they  walked  together  in  the  park ;  and 
when  they  appeared  at  dinner,  Emily  wondered  why  Mr. 
Denbigh  had  taken  a  seat  next  to  her  mother,  instead  of  his 
usual  place  between  herself  and  her  aunt.  In"  the  evening, 
he  announced  his  intention  of  leaving  B for  a  short  time 


PKACAUTION.  lilff 

^vith  Lord  Chatterton.  They  were  going  to  London  together ; 
but  he  hoped  to  return  within  ten  days.  This  sudden 
determination  caused  some  surprise;  but,  as  the  dowager 
supposed  it  was  to  secure  the  new  situation,  and  the  remainder 
of  their  friends  thought  it  might  be  business,  it  was  soon 
forgotten,  though  much  regretted  for  the  time.  The  gentle- 
men left  the  hall  that  night  to  proceed  to  an  inn,  from  which 
they  could  obtain  a  chaise  and  horses ;  and  the  following 
morning,  when  the  baronet's  family  assembled  around  their 
aocial  breakfast,  they  were  many  miles  on  the  road  to  the 
metropolis. 


146  PTECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Lady  Chatterton,  finding  that  little  was  to  be  expected 
in  her  present  situation,  excepting  what  she  looked  forward 
to  from  the  varying  admiration  of  John  Moseley  to  her 
youngest  daughter,  determined  to  accept  an  invitation  of 
some  standing  to  a  nobleman's  seat  about  fifty  miles  from 
the  hall,  and,  in  order  to  keep  things  in  their  proper  places, 
to  leave  Grace  with  her  friends,  who  had  expressed  a  wish 
to  that  eflfect.  Accordingly,  the  day  succeeding  the  depar- 
ture of  her  son,  she  proceeded  on  her  expedition,  accompanied 
by  her  wiUing  assistant  in  the  matrimonial  speculations. 

Grace  Chatterton  was  by  nature  retiring  and  delicate  ;  but 
her  feelings  were  acute,  and  on  the  subject  of  female  pro- 
priety sensitive  to  a  degree,  that  the  great  want  of  it  in  a 
relation  she  loved  as  much  as  her  mother  had  possibly  in 
some  measure  increased.  Her  affections  were  too  single  in 
their  objects  to  have  left  her  long  in  doubt  as  to  their  nature 
with  respect  to  the  baronet's  son ;  and  it  was  one  of  the  most 
painful  orders  she  had  ever  received,  that  which  compelled 
her  to  accept  her  cousin's  invitation.  Her  mother  wag 
peremptory,  however,  and  Grace  was  obliged  to  comply. 
Every  delicate  feeling  she  possessed  revolted  at  the  step : 
the  visit  itself  was  unwished  for  on  her  part;  but  there  did 
exist  a  reason  which  had  reconciled  her  to  that — the  wedding 
of  Clara.  But  now  to  remain,  after  all  her  family  had  gone, 
in  the  house  where  resided  the  man  who  had  as  yet  never 


PRECAUTION,  117 

solicited  those  affections  she  had  been  unable  to  withhold,  it 
was  humiliating — it  was  degrading  her  in  her  own  esteem, 
and  she  could  scarcely  endure  it. 

It  is  said  that  women  are  fertile  in  inventions  to  further 
their  schemes  of  personal  gratification,  vanity,  or  even  mischief. 
It  may  be  it  is  true ;  but  the  writer  of  these  pages  is  a  man 
— one  who  has  seen  much  of  the  other  sex,  and  he  is  happy 
to  have  an  opportunity  of  paying  a  tribute  to  female  purity 
and  female  truth.  That  there  are  hearts  so  disinterested  as 
to  lose  the  considerations  of  self,  in  advancing  the  happiness 
of  those  they  love ;  that  there  are  minds  so  pure  as  to  recoil 
with  disgust  from  the  admission  of  deception,  indelicacy,  or 
management,  he  knows ;  for  he  has  seen  it' from  long  and 
close  examination.  He  regrets  that  the  very  artlessness  of 
those  who  are  most  pure  in  the  one  sex,  subjects  them  to  the 
suspicions  of  the  grosser  materials  which  compose  the  other. 
He  believes  that  innocency,  singleness  of  heart,  ardency  of 
feeling,  and  unalloyed,  shrinking  delicacy,  sometimes  exist  in 
the  female  bosom,  to  an  extent  that  but  few  men  are  happy 
enough  to  discover,  and  that  most  men  beheve  incompatible 
with  the  frailties  of  human  nature.  Grace  Chatterton 
possessed  no  httle  of  what  may  almost  be  called  this  ethereal 
spirit,  and  a  visit  to  Bolton  parsonage  was  immediatel};  pro- 
posed by  her  to  Emily.  The  latter,  too  innocent  herself  to 
suspect  the  motives  of  her  cousin,  was  happy  to  be  allowed 
to  devote  a  fortnight  to  Clara,  uninterrupted  by  the  noisy 
round  of  visiting  and  congratulations  which  had  attended  her 
first  week ;  and  Mrs.  Wilson  and  the  two  girls  left  the  hall 
the  same  day  with  the  Dowager  Lady  Chatterton.  Francis 
and  Clara  were  happy  to  receive  them,  and  they  were  imme- 
diately domesticated  in  their  new  abode.  Doctor  Ives  and 
his  wife  had  postponed  an  annual  visit  to  a  relation  of  the 
former  on  account  of  the  marriage  of  their  son,  and  they  now 


148  PRECAUTION. 

availed  themselves  of  this  visit  to  perform  their  ovrn  engage- 
ment.      B appeared   in   some   measure  deserted,  and 

Egerton  had  the  field  almost  to  himself.  Summer  had 
arrived,  and  the  country  bloomed  in  all  its  luxuriance  of 
vegetation :  everything  was  propitious  to  the  indulgence  of 
the  softer  passions ;  and  Lady  Moseley,  ever  a  strict  adherent 
to  forms  and  decorum,  admitted  the  intercourse  between 
Jane  and  her  admirer  to  be  carried  to  as  great  lengths  as 
those  forms  would  justify.  Still  the  colonel  was  not  explicit ; 
and  Jane,  whose  delicacy  dreaded  the  exposure  of  feelings 
that  was  involved  in  his  declaration,  gave  or  sought  no 
marked  opportunities  for  the  avowal  of  his  passion.  Yet 
they  were  seldom  separate,  and  both  Sir  Edward  and  his 
wife  looked  forward  to  their  future  union  as  a  thing  not  to  be 
doubted.  Lady  Moseley  had  given  up  her  youngest  child  so 
absolutely  to  the  government  of  her  aunt,  that  she  seldom 
thought  of  her  future  establishment  She  had  that  kind  of 
reposing  confidence  in  Mrs.  Wilson's  proceedings  that  feeble 
minds  ever  bes^^w  on  those  who  are  much  superior  to  them ; 
and  she  even  approved  of  a  system  in  many  respects  which 
she  could  not  endeavor  to  imitate.  Her  affection  for  Emily 
was  not,  however,  less  than  what  she  felt  for  her  other 
children:  she  was,  in  fact,  her  favorite,  and,  had  the 
discipline  of  Mrs.  Wilson  admitted  of  so  weak  an  interference, 
might  have  been  injured  as  such. 

John  Moseley  had  been  able  to  find  out  exactly  the  hour 
they  breakfasted  at  the  deanery,  the  length  of  time  it  took 
Egerton's  horses  to  go  the  distance  between  that  house  and 
the  hall ;  and  on  the  sixth  morning  after  the  departure  of  his 
aunt,  John's  bays  were  in  his  phaeton,  and  allowing  ten  mi- 
nutes for  the  mile  and  a  half  to  the  park  gates,  John  had  got 
happily  oft'  his  own  territories,  before  he  met  the  tilbury  tra- 
velling eastward.     I  am  not  to  know  which  road  the  colonel 


PRECAUTION.  140' 

« 

may  turn,  tliouglit  John  :  and  after  a  few  friendly,  but  rather 
hasty  greetings,  the  bays  were  again  in  full  trot  to  the  par- 
sonage. 

**  John,''  said  Emily,  holding  out  her  hand  affectionately, 
and  smiling  a  little  archly,  as  he  approached  the  window 
where  she  stood,  "  you  should  take  a  lesson  in  driving  from 
Frank ;  you  have  turned  more  than  one  hair,  I  believe." 

"  How  is  Clara  ?"  cried  John,  hastily,  taking  the  offered 
hand,  with  a  kiss,  "  aye,  and  aunt  Wilson  f* 

*'  Both  well,  brother,  and  out  walking  this  fine  morning." 

"  How  happens  it  you  are  not  with  them  ?"  inquired  the 
brother,  throwing  his  eyes  round  the  room.  **  Have  they  left 
you  alone  ?" 

"  No,  Grace  has  this  moment  left  me." 

"Well,  Emily,"  said  John, 'taking  his  seat  very  compo- 
sedly, but  keeping  his  eyes  on  the  door,  "  I  have  come  to 
dine  with  you.  I  thought  I  owed  Clara  a  visit,  and  have 
managed  nicely  to  give  the  colonel  the  go-by." 

"  Clara  will  be  happy  to  see  you,  dear  John,  and  so  will 
aunt,  and  so  am  I" — as  she  drew  aside  his  fine  hair  with  her 
fingers  to  cool  his  forehead. 

"  And  why  not  Grace,  too  ?"  asked  John,  with  a  look  of  a 
httle  alarm. 

*'  And  Grace,  too,  I  fancy — but  here  she  is,  to  answer  for 
herself." 

Grace  said  little  on  her  entrance,  but  her  eyes  were 
brighter  than  usual,  and  she  looked  so  contented  and  happj; 
hat  Emily  observed  to  her,  in  an  affectionate  manner — 

"  I  knew  the  eau-de-Cologne  would  do  your  head  good." 

"  Is  Miss  Chatterton  unwell  ?"  asked  John,  with  a  look  of 
interest. 

"  A  slight  headach,"  said  Grace,  faintly,  "  but  I  feel  mucb 
better." 


ib?  PRECAUTION. 

**  Want  of  air  and  exercise  :  my  horses  ar<^  at  the  door ; 
ihe  phaeton  will  hold  three  easily;  run,  sister,  for  your  hat," 
almost  pushing  Emily  out  of  the  room  as  be  spoke.  In  a  few 
minutes  the  horses  might  have  been  suffering  for  air,  but 
surely  not  for  exercise. 

"  I  wish,"  cried  John,  with  impatience,  when  at  the  dis- 
tance of  a  couple  of  miles  from  the  parsonage,  "  that  gentle- 
man had  driven  his  gig  out  of  the  road." 

There  was  a  small  group  on  one  side  of  the  road,  consisting 
4 if  a  man,  a  woman,  and  several  children.  The  owner  of  the 
pg  had  alighted,  and  was  in  the  act  of  speaking  to  them,  as 
■.ii'i  phaeton  approached  at  a  great  rate. 

**  John,"  cried  Emily,  in  terror,  "  You  never  can  pass — you 
m\\  upset  us." 

*'  There  is  no  danger,  dear  Grace,"  said  the  brother,  endea- 
voring to  check  his  horses ;  he  succeeded  in  part,  but  not  so 
as  to  prevent  his  passing  at  a  spot  where  the  road  was  very 
narrow ;  a  wheel  hit  violently  against  a  stone,  and  some  of 
his  works  gave  way.  The  gentleman  immediately  hastened 
to  his  assistance — it  was  Denbigh. 

"  Miss  Moseley  !"  cried  he,  in  a  voice  of  the  tenderest  in- 
terest, "  you  are  not  hurt  in  the  least,  I  hope." 

"No,"  said  Emily,  recovering  her  breath,  "only  fright- 
ened ;"  and  taking  his  hand,  she  sprang  from  the  carriage. 

Miss  Chatterton  found  courage  to  wait  quietly  for  the  care 
of  John.  His  "  dear  Grace,"  had  thrilled  on  every  nervo, 
and  she  afterwards  often  laughed  at  Emily  lor  her  terror 
when  there  was  so  little  danger.  The  horses  were  not  in  the 
least  frightened,  and  after  a  little  mending,  John  declared  all 
was  safe.  To  ask  Emily  to  enter  the  carriage  again,  was  to 
exact  no  little  sacrifice  of  her  feelings  to  her  reason ;  and  she 
Btood  in  a  suspense  that  too  plainly  showed  that  the  terror  she 
bad  been  in  had  not  left  her. 


PRECAUTION.  151 

"  If,"  said  Denbigh,  modestly,  "  if  Mr.  Moseley  will  take 
the  ladies  in  my  gig,  I  will  drive  the  phaeton  to  the  hall,  as 
it  is  rather  unsafe  for  so  heavy  a  load." 

"No,  no,  Denbigh,"  said  John,  coolly,  "you  are  not  used 
to  such  mettled  nags  as  mine — it  would  be  indiscreet  for  you 
to  drive  them  :  if,  however,  you  will  be  good  enough  to  take 
Emily  into  your  gig — Grace  Chatterton,  I  am  sure,  is  n(t 
afraid  to  trust  my  driving,  and  we  might  all  get  back  as  well 
as  ever." 

Grace  gave  her  hand  almost  unconsciously  to  John,  and 
he  handed  her  into  the  phaeton,  as  Denbigh  stood  willing  to 
execute  his  part  of  the  arrangement,  but  too  diffident  to  speak. 
It  was  not  a  moment  for  affectation,  if  Emily  had  been  capa- 
ble of  it,  and  blushing  with  the  novelty  of  her  situation,  she 
took  her  place  in  the  gig.  Denbigh  stopped  and  turned  his 
eyes  on  the  little  group  with  which  he  had  been  talking,  and 
at  that  moment  they  caught  the  attention  of  John  also.  The 
latter  inquired  after  their  situation.  The  tale  was  a  piteous 
one,  the  distress  evidently  real.  The  husband  had  been 
gardener  to  a  gentleman  in  a  neighboring  county,  and  he  had 
been  lately  discharged,  to  make  way,  in  ike  difficulty  of  the 
times,  for  a  relation  of  the  steward,  who  was  in  want  of  the 
place.  Suddenly  thrown  on  the  world,  with  a  wife  and  four 
children,  with  but  the  wages  of  a  week  for  his  and  their  sup- 
port, they  had  travelled  thus  far  on  the  way  to  a  neighboring 
parish,  where  he  said  he  had  a  right  to,  and  must  seek,  public 
assistance.  The  children  were  crying  for  hunger,  and  the 
mother,  who  was  a  nurse,  had  been  unable  to  walk  further 
than  where  she  sat,  but  had  sunk  on  the  ground  overcome 
with  fatigue,  and  weak  from  the  want  of  nourishment. 
Neither  Emily  nor  Grace  could  refrain  from  tears  at  the  re- 
cital of  these  heavy  woes ;  the  want  of  sustenance  was  some- 
thing St*  shocking  in  itself,  and  brought,  as  it  were,  immedi" 


152  PRECAUTION. 

ately  before  their  eyes,  the  appeal  was  irresistible.  John 
forgot  his  bays — forgot  even  Grace,  as  he  listened  to  the 
affecting  story  related  by  the  woman,  who  was  much  revived 
by  some  nutriment  Denbigh  had  obtained  from  a  cottage 
near  them,  and  to  which  they  were  about  to  proceed  by  his 
directions,  as  Moseley  interrupted  them.  His  hand  shook,  his 
«yes  glistened  as  he  took  his  purse  from  his  pocket,  and  gave 
several  guineas  from  it  to  the  mendicant.  Grace  thought 
John  had  never  appeared  so  handsome  as  the  moment  he 
Handed  the  money  to  the  gardener ;  his  face  glowed  with 
unusual  excitement,  and  his  symmetry  had  lost  the  only 
charm  he  wanted  in  common,  softness.  Denbigh,  after  wait- 
mg  patiently  until  Moselej  had  bestowed  his  alms,  gravely 
repeated  his  directions  for  their  proceeding  to  the  cottage, 
when  the  carriages  moved  on. 

Emily  revolved  in  her  mind,  during  their  short  ride,  the 
horrid  distress  she  had  witnessed.  It  had  taken  a  strong 
hold  on  her  feelings.  Like  her  brother,  she  was  warm- 
hearted and  compassionate,  if  we  may  use  the  term,  to 
excess;  and  had  she  been  prepared  with  the  means,  the 
gardener  would  have  reaped  a  double  harvest  of  donations. 
It  struck  her,  at  the  moment,  unpleasantly,  that  Denbigh 
had  been  so  backward  in  his  liberality.  The  man  had  rather 
sullenly  displayed  half  a  crown  as  his  gift,  in  contrast  with 
the  golden  shower  of  John's  generosity.  It  had  been  even 
somewhat  offensive  in  its  exliibition,  and  urged  her  brother 
to  a  more  hasty  departure  than,  under  other  circumstances, 
he  would  just  at  the  moment  have  felt  disposed  to  make. 
Denbigh,  however,  had  taken  no  notice  of  the  indignity,  and 
continued  his  directions  in  the- same  mild  and  benevolent 
manner  he  had  used  during  the  whole  interview.  Half  a 
crown  was  but  little,  thought  Emily,  for  a  family  that  was 
R^arving;   and,  unwilUng  to  judge  harshly  of  one  she  had 


PRECAUTION.  153 

begun  to  value  so  highly,  she  came  to  the  painful  conclusion, 
her  companion  was  not  as  rich  as  he  deserved  to  be.  Emily 
had  not  yet  to  learn  that  charity  was  in  proportion  to  the 
means  of  the  donor,  and  a  gentle  wish  insensibly  stole  over 
her  that  Denbigh  might  in  some  way  become  more  richly 
endowed  with  the  good  things  of  this  world.  Until  this 
moment  her  thoughts  had  never  turned  to  his  temporal  con 
dition.  She  knew  he  was  an  ofificer  in  the  army,  but  of  wha 
rank,  or  even  of  what  regiment,  she  was  ignorant.  He  had 
frequently  touched  in  his  convereations  on  the  customs  of  the 
diffeient  countries  he  had  seen.  He  had  served  in  Italy,  in 
the  north  of  Europe,  in  the  West  Indies,  in  Spain.  Of  the 
manners  of  the  people,  of  their  characters,  he  not  unfrequently 
spoke,  and  with  a  degree  of  intelligence,  a  hberality,  a  just- 
ness of  discrimination,  that  had  charmed  his  auditors  ;  but 
on  the  point  of  personal  service  he  had  maintained  a  silence 
that  was  inflexible,  and  not  a  little  surprising — more  particu- 
larly of  that  part  of  his  history  which  related  to  the  latter 
country ;  from  all  which  she  was  rather  inclined  to  think  his 
military  rank  was  not  as  high  as  she  thought  he  merited,  and 
that  possibly  he  felt  an  awkwardness  of  ^putting  it  in  contrast 
with  the  more  elevated  station  of  Colonel  Egerton.  The 
same  idea  had  struck  the  whole  family,  and  prevented  any 
inquiries  which  might  be  painful.  He  was  so  connected  with 
the  mournful  event  of  his  father's  death,  that  no  questions 
could  be  put  with  propriety  to  the  doctor's  family ;  and  if 
Francis  had  been  more  communicative  to  Clara,  she  was  too 
good  a  wife  to  mention  it,  and  her  own  family  was  possessed 
of  too  just  a  sense  of  propriety  to  touch  upon  points  that 
might  bring  her  conjugal  fidelity  in  question. 

Though  Denbigh  appeared  a  little  abstracted  during  the 
ride,  his  questions  concerning  Sir  Edward  and  her  friends 
were  kind  and  affectionate.     As  they  approached  the  house, 


154  PRECAUTIONS^ 

he  suffered  his  horse  to  walk,  and,  after  some  hesitation,  he 
took  a  letter  from  his  pocket,  and  handing  it  to  her,  said — 

"I  hope  Miss  Moseley  will  not  think  me  impertinent  in 
becoming  the  bearer  of  a  letter  from  her  cousin,  Lord  Chat- 
terton.  He  requested  it  'so  earnestly,  that  I  could  not  refuse 
taking  what  I  am  sensible  is  a  great  liberty ;  for  it  would  be 
deception  did  I  affect  to  be  ignorant  of  his  admiration,  or  of 
his  generous  treatment  of  a  passion  she  cannot  return. 
Chatterton,"  and  he  smiled  mournfully,  "  is  yet  too  true  to 
cease  his  commendations." 

Emily  blushed  painfully,  but  she  took  the  letter  in  silence; 
and  as  Denbigh  pursued  the  topic  no  further,  the  little  dis- 
tance they  had  to  go  was  ridden  in  silence.  On  entering  the 
gates,  however,  he  said,  inquiringly,  and  with  much  interest — 

"  I  sincerely  hope  I  have  not  given  offence  to  your  delicacy, 
Miss  Moseley.  Lord  Chatterton  has  made  me  an  unwilling 
confidant.  I  need  not  say  the  secret  is  sacred,  on  more 
accounts  than  one." 

"  Surely  not,  Mr.  Denbigh,"  replied  Emily,  in  a  low  tone ; 
and  the  gig  stopping,  she  hastened  to  accept  the  assistance 
of  her  brother  to  aligjit. 

"  Well,  sister,"  cried  John,  lauo^hino^,  "  Denbio:h  is  a 
disciple  to  Frank's  sj^stem  of  horse-flesh.  Hairs  smooth 
enouoh  here,  I  see.  Grace  and  I  thouo-ht  vou  would  never 
get  home."  Now,  John  fibbed  a  little,  for  neither  Grace  nor 
he  had  thought  in  the  least  about  them,  or  anything  else  but 
each  otlifer,  from  the  moment  they  sepai-ated  until  the  gig 
arrived. 

Emily  made  no  reply  to  this  speech,  and  as  the  gentlemen 
were  engaged  in  giving  directions  concerning  their  horses,  she 
seized  an  opportunity  to  read  Chatterton 's  letter. 

"  I  avail  myself  of  the  return  of  my  friend  ^h:  Denbigh  to 


PRECAUTION.  loo 

that  happy  family  from  which  reason  requires  my  self-banish- 
ment to  assure  my  amiable  cousin  of  my  continued  respect 
for  her  character,  and  to  convince  her  of  my  gratitude  for  the' 
tenderness  she  has  manifested  to  feelings  she  cannot  return. 
I  may  even  venture  to  tell  her  what  few  women  would  be 
pleased  to  hear,  but  what  I  know  Emily  Moseley  too  well  to 
cloubt,  for  a  moment,  will  give  her  unalloyed  pleasure — that 
owing  to  the  kind,  the  benevolent,  the  brotherly  attentions  of 
my  true  friend,  Mr.  Denbigh,  I  have  already  gained  a  peace 
of  mind  and  resignation  I  once  thought  was  lost  to  me  for 
ever.  Ah !  Emily,  my  beloved  cousin,  in  Denbigh  you  will 
find,  I  doubt  not,  a  mind,  principles,  congenial  to  your  own. 
It  is  impossible  that  he  could  see  you  without  wishing  to 
possess  such  a  treasure ;  and,  if  I  have  a  wish  that  is  now 
uppermost  in  my  heart,  it  is,  that  you  may  learn  to  esteem 
each  other  as  you  ought,  when,  I  doubt  not,  you  will  become 
as  happy  as  you  both  deserve  to  be.  What  greater  earthly 
blessing  can  I  implore  upon  you ! 

"  Chatterton." 

Emily,  while  reading  this  epistle,  felt  a  confusion  but  little 
inferior  to  that  which  would  have  oppressed  her  had  Denbigh 
himself  been  at  her  feet,  soliciting  that  love  Chatterton 
thought  him  so  worthy  of  possessing ;  and  when  they  met, 
she  could  hardly  look  in  the  face  a  man  who,  it  would  seem, 
had  been  so  openly  selected  by  another,  as  the  fittest  to  be 
her  partner  for  hfe.  The  unaltered  manner  of  Denbigh  him- 
self,  however,  soon  convinced  her  that  he  was  entirely  igno 
rant  of  the  contents  of  the  note,  and  it  greatly  relieved  her 
from  the  awkwardness  his  presence  at  first  occasioned. 

Francis  soon  returned,  accompanied  by  his  wife  and  aunt, 
and  was  overjoyed  to  find  the  guest  who  had  so  unexpect- 
edly arrived.     His  parents  had  not  yet  i-eturned  from  their 


156  PRECAUTION. 

visit,  and  Denbigh,  of  course,  would  remain  at  his  present 
quarters.  John  promised  to  continue  with  them  for  a  couple 
of  days :  and  everything  was  soon  settled  to  the  perfect  sa- 
tisfaction of  the  whole  party.  Mrs.  Wilson  knew  the  great 
danger  of  suffering  young  people  to  be  inmates  of  the  same 
house  too  well,  wantonly  to  incur  the  penalties,  but  her  visit 
had  nearly  expired,  and  it  might  give  her  a  better  opportu- 
nity of  judging  Denbigh's  character ;  and  Grace  Chatterton, 
though  too  delicate  to  follow  herself,  was  well  contented  to  be 
fnllowed,  especially  when  John  Moseley  was  the  pursuer. 


PRECAUTION.  167 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

**  I  AM  sorry,  aunt,  Mr.  Denbigh  is  not  rich,"  said  Emily  to 
Mrs.  Wilson,  after  they  had  retired  in  the  evening,  alnaost  un- 
conscious of  what  she  uttered.  The  latter  looked  at  her 
niece  in  surprise,  at  a  remark  so  abrupt,  and  one  so  very  dif- 
ferent from  the  ordinary  train  of  Emily's  reflections,  as  she 
required  an  explanation,  Emily,  slightly  coloring  at  the 
channel  her  thoughts  had  insensibly  strayed  into,  gave  her 
aunt  an  account  of  their  adventure  in  the  course  of  the  morn- 
ing's drive,  and  touched  lightly  on  the  difference  in  the 
amount  of  the  alms  of  her  brother  and  those  of  Mr.  Denbigh. 

"  The  bestowal  of  money  is  not  always  an  act  of  charity," 
observed  Mrs.  Wilson,  gravely,  and  the  subject  was  dropped  : 
thongh  neither  ceased  to  dwell  on  it  in  her  thoughts,  until 
sleep  closed  the  eyes  of  both. 

The  following  day  Mrs.  Wilson  invited  Grace  and  Emily 
to  accompany  her  in  a  walk  ;  the  gentlemen  having  preceded 
them  in  pursuit  of  their  different  avocations.  Francis  had  his 
regular  visits  of  spiritual  consolation ;  John  had  gone  to  the 
hall  for  his  pointers  and  fowling-piece,  the  season  for  wood- 
cock having  arrived ;  and  Denbigh  had  proceeded  no  one 
knew  whither.  On  gaining  the  high-road,  Mrs.  Wilson  de- 
sired her  companions  to  lead  the  way  to  the  cottage  where 
the  family  of  the  mendicant  gardener  had  been  lodged,  and 
thither  they  soon  arrived.  On  knocking  at  the  door,  they 
were  immediately  admitted  to  an  outer  room,  in  which  they 
found  the  wife  of  the  laborer  who  inhabited  the  building,  en- 
gaged ii'   her   (.-ustomary  morning  employments.     They  ex- 


158  PRKCAUTION. 

plained  the  motives  of  the  visit,  and  were  told  that  the  family 
they  sought  were  in  an  adjoining  room,  but  she  rather  thought 
at  that  moment  engaged  with  a  clergyman  who  had  called  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  before.  "  I  expect,  my  lady,  it's  the  new 
rector,  who  everybody  says  is  so  good  to  the  poor  and  needy; 
but  I  have  not  found  time  yet  to  go  to  church  to  hear  his 
reverence  preach,  ma'am,"  courtseying  and  handing  the  fresh 
•lusted  chairs  to  her  unexpected  visitors.  The  ladies  seated 
themselves,  too  delicate  to  interrupt  Francis  in  his  sacred  du- 
ties, and  were  silently  waiting  his  appearance,  when  a  voice 
was  distinctly  heard  through  the  thin  partition,  the  first  note 
of  which  undeceived  them  as  to  the  character  of  the  garden- 
er's visitor. 

"  It  appears  then,  Davis,  by  your  own  confession,"  said 
Denbigh,  mildly,  but  in  a  tone  of  reproof,  *'  that  your  frequent 
acts  of  intemperance  have  at  least  given  ground  for  the 
steward's  procuring  your  discharge  if  it  has  not  justified  him 
in  doing  that  which  his  duty  to  your  common  employer  re- 
quired." 

"  It  is  hard,  sir,"  replied  the  man  sullenly,  "  to  be  thrown 
on  the  world  with  a  family  like  mine,  to  make  way  for  a 
younger  man  with  but  one  child." 

"  It  may  be  unfortunate  for  your  wife  and  children,"  said 
Denbigh,  "  but  just,  as  respects  yourself.  I  have  already 
convinced  you,  that  my  interference  or  reproof  is  not  an 
empty  one  :  carry  the  letter  to  the  person  to  whom  it  is 
directed,  and  I  pledge  you,  you  shall  have  a  new  trial ;  and 
should  you  conduct  yom-self  soberly,  and  with  propriety,  con 
tinned  and  ample  support ;  the  second  letter  will  gain  you. 
children  immediate  admission  to  the  school  I  mentioned  ;  and 
I  now  leave  you,  with  an  earnest  injunction  to  remember  that 
«abits  of  intemperance  not  only  disquaUfy  you  to  support 
(Jio^e  who  have  such  great  claim?  on  your  protection,  but  in- 


J'RKCALTtON.  1  o[) 

evitably  lead  to  a  loss  of  those  powers  which  are  necessary  tu 
insure  your  own  eternal  welfare." 

"  May  Heaven  bless  your  honor,"  cried  the  woman,  with 
fervor,  and  evidently  in  tears,  "  both  for  what  you  have  said, 
and  what  you  have  done.  Thomas  only  wants  to  be  taken 
from  temptation,  to  become  a  sober  man  again — an  honest 
one  he  has  ever  been,  I  am  sure." 

"  I  have  selected  a  place  for  him,"  replied  Denbigli, 
"  where  there  is  no  exposure  through  improper  companions, 
and  everything  now  depends  upon  himself,  under  Provi- 
dence." 

Mrs.  Wilson  had  risen  from  her  cliair  on  the  first  intimation 
given  by  Denbigh  of  his  intention  to  go,  but  had  paused  at 
the  door  to  listen  to  this  last  speech  ;  when  beckoning  her 
companions,  she  hastily  withdrew,  having  first  made  a  small 
present  to  the  woman  of  the  cottage,  and  requested  her  not 
to  mention  their  having  called. 

"What  becomes  now  of  the  comparative  charity  of  your 
brother  and  Mr.  Denbigh,  Emily  ?''  asked  Mrs.  Wilson,  as 
they  gained  the  road  on  their  return  homewards.  Emily  was 
not  accustomed  to  hear  any  act  of  John  slightly  spoken  of 
without  at  least  manifesting  some  emotion,  which  betrayed 
her  sisterly  regard ;  but  on  the  present  occasion  she  chose  to 
be  silent ;  while  Grace,  after  waiting  in  expectation  that  hei 
cou^n  would  speak,  ventured  to  say  timidly — 

"  1  am  sure,  dear  madam,  Mr.  Moseley  was  very  liberal 
and  the  tears  were  in  his  eyes  while  he  gave  the  money.  T 
was  looking  directly  at  them  the  whole  time." 

^"  John  is  compassionate  by  nature,"  continued  Mrs.  Wilson 
with  an  almost  imperceptible  smile.     "I  have  no  doubt  Ins 
sympathies  were  warmly  enlisted  in  behalf  of  this  family 
and  possessing  much,  he  gave  liberally.     I  have  no  doubt  he 
would  have  underu^t^ne  peisonal  privation    to  have  relieved 


IGO  PRECAUTION. 

their  distress,  and  endured  both  pain  and  labor,  with  such  an 
excitement  before  him.  But  what  is  all  that  to  the  charity 
of  Mr.  Denbigh  V 

Grace  was  unused  to  contend,  and,  least  of  all,  with  Mrs. 
Wilson;  but,  unwilling  to  abandon  John  to  such  censure, 
with  increased  animation,  she  said — 

"If  bestowing  freely,  and  feeling  for  the  distress  you 
relieve,  be  not  commendable,  madam,  I  am  sure  I  am 
ignorant  what  is." 

"  That  compassion  for  the  woes  of  others  is  beautiful  in 
Itself,  and  the  want  of  it  an  invariable  evidence  of  corruption 
from  too  much,  and  an  ill-governed,  intercourse  with  the 
world,  I  am  willing  to  acknowledge,  my  dear  Grace,"  said 
Mrs.  Wilson,  kindly ;  "  but  the  relief  of  misery,  where  the 
heart  has  not  undergone  this  hardening  ordeal,  is  only  a 
relief  to  our  own  feelings  :  this  is  compassion  ;  but  Cliristian 
charity  is  a  higher  order  of  duty :  it  enters  into  every  sensa- 
tion of  the  heart;  disposes  us  to  judge,  as  well  as  to  act, 
favorably  to  our  fellow- creatures ;  is  deeply  seated  in  the 
sense  of  our  own  unworthiness ;  keeps  a  single  eye,  in  ity 
dispensations  of  temporal  benefits,  to  the  everlasting  happi- 
ness of  the  objects  of  its  bounty ;  is  consistent,  well  regulated  ; 
in  short," — and  Mrs.  Wilson's  pale  cheek  glowed  with  an 
unusual  richness  of  color — "  it  is  an  humble  attempt  to  copy 
after  the  heavenly  example  of  our  Redeemer,  in  sacrificing 
ourselves  to  the  welfare  of  others,  and  does  and  must  proceed 
from  a  love  of  his  person,  and  an  obedience  to  his  mar- 
dates." 

"And  Mr.  Denbigh,  aunt,"  exclaimed  Emily,  the  blood 
mantling  to  her  cheeks  with  a  sympathetic  glow,  while  she 
lost  all  consideration  for  John  in  the  strenoth  of  her  feelino-s, 
*"•  his  charity  you  think  to  be  of  this  description  ?" 

"So  far,  my  child,  as  we  can  understand  motives  from  the 


PRECAUTION.  161 

nature  of  the  conduct,  such  appears  to  have  been  the  charity 
of  Mr.  Denbigh." 

Grace  was  silenced,  if  not  convinced ;  and  the  ladies  con- 
tinued their  walk,  lost  in  their  own  reflections,  until  they 
reached  a  bend  in  the  road  which  hid  the  cottage  from  view. 
Emily  involuntarily  turned  her  head  as  they  arrived  at  tha 
fcpot,  and  saw  that  Denbigh  had  approached  within  a  few 
paces  of  them/  On  joining  them,  he  commenced  his  com- 
plimentary address  in  such  a  way  as  convinced  them  the 
cottager  had  been  true  to  the  injunction  given  by  Mrs.  Wilson. 
No  mention  was  made  of  the  gardener,  and  Denbigh  began 
a  hvely  description  of  some  foreign  scenery,  of  which  their 
present  situation  reminded  him.  The  discourse  was  main- 
tained with  great  interest  by  himself  and  Mrs.  Wilson  for  the 
remainder  of  their  walk. 

It  was  yet  early  when  they  reached  the  parsonage,  where 
they  found  John,  who  had  driven  to  the  hall  to  breakfast, 
and  who,  instead  of  pursuing  his  favorite  amusement  of 
shooting,  laid  down  his  gun  as  they  entered,  observing,  "  It 
is  rather  soon  yet  for  the  v/oodcocks,  and  I  believe  I  will 
listen  to  your  entertaining  conversation,  ladies,  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  morning."  He  threw  himself  upon  a  sofa  at 
no  great  distance  from  Grace,  and  in  such  a  position  as 
enabled  him,  without  rudeness,  to  study  the  features  of  her 
lovely  face,  while  Denbigh  read  aloud  to  the  ladies  Camp- 
bell's beautiful  description  of  wedded  love,  in  Gertrude  of 
Wyoming. 

There  was  a  chastened  correctness  in  the  ordinary  mannei 
of  Denbigh  which  wore  the  appearance  of  the  influence  of 
his  reason,  and  a  subjection  of  the  passions,  that,  if  anything, 
gave  him  less  interest  with  Emily  than  had  it  been  marked 
by  an  evidence  of  stronger  feeling.  But  on  the  present  occa- 
sion, this  objection  was  removed  :  his  reading  was  impressive ; 


1G2  PRECAUTION". 

he  dwelt  On  those  passages  which  most  pleased  him  with  a 
warmth  of  eulogiiira  fully  equal  to  her  own  undisguised  sen- 
Batioi)S.  In  the  hour  occupied  in  the  reading  this  exquisite 
little  poem,  and  in  commenting  on  its  merits  and  sentiments, 
Denbigh  gained  more  on  her  imagination  than  in  all  their 
form<ir  intercourse.  His  ideas  were  as  pure,  as  chastened^ 
and  almost  as  vivid  as  those  of  the  poet ;  and  Emily  hstened 
to  hJs  periods  with  intense  attention,  as  they  flowed  from  him 
in  hxiguage  as  glowing  as  his  ideas.  The  poem  had  been 
first  read  to  her  by  her  brother,  and  she  was  surprised  to 
discover  how  she  had  overlooked  its  beauties  on  that  occa- 
sion. Even  John  acknowledged  that  it  certainly  appeared  a 
different  thing  now  from  what  he  had  then  thought  it ;  but 
Emily  had  taxed  his  declamatory  power  in  the  height  of  the 
pheasant  season,  and,  somehow  or  other,  John  now  imagined 
that  Gertrude  was  just  such  a  delicate,  feminine,  warm- 
hearted domestic  girl  as  Grace  Chatterton.  As  Denbigh 
closed  the  book,  and  entered  into  a  general  conversation  with 
Clara  and  her  sister,  John  followed  Grace  to  a  window,  and 
speaking  in  a  tone  of  unusual  softness  for  him,  he  said — 

"  Do  you  know,  Miss  Chatterton,  I  have  accepted  your 
brother's  invitation  to  go  into  Suffolk  this  summer,  and  that 
you  are  to  be  plagued  with  me  and  my  pointers  again  ?" 

"  Plagued,  Mr.  Moseley !"  said  Grace,  in  a  voice  even  softer 
than  his  own.  "  I  am  sure — I  am  sure,  we  none  of  us  think 
you  or  your  dogs  in  the  least  a  plague." 

"  Ah !  Grace,"  and  John  was  about  to  become  what  1  e 
liad  never  been  before — sentimental — when  he  saw  the 
carriage  of  Chatterton,  containing  the  dowager  and  Catherine 
entering  the  parsonage  gates. 

Pshaw !  tJiought  John,  there  comes  Mother  Chatterton 
*'  Ah  !  Grace,"  said  John,  "  there  are  your  mother  and  sister 
l-eturned  already." 


PRECAUTtC'S".  163 

"  Already !"  said  the  young  lady,  and,  fr»i  the  flrs'  time  in 
ber  life,  she  felt  rather  unlike  a  dutiful  chiM.  Fi^e  minutes 
could  have  made  no  great  difference  to  her  mother,  and  she 
would  greatly  have  liked  to  lieai-  what  John  Moseley  mean< 
to  have  said ;  for  the  alteration  in  his  manner  convinced  her 
that  his  first  "ah !  Grace"  was  to  have  been  continued  in  t 
somewhat  different  language  from  that  in  which  the  seconc' 
**  ah !  Grace"  was  ended. 

Young  Moseley  and  her  daughter,  standing  together  at  the 
open  window,  caught  the  attention  of  Lady  Chatterton  the 
moment  she  got  a  view  of  the  house,  and  she  entered  with  2 
good  humor  she  had  not  felt  since  the  disappointment  in  her 
late  expedition  in  behalf  of  Catherine  ;  for  the  gentleman  she 
had  had  in  view  in  this  excursion  had  been  taken  up  by 
another  rover,  acting  on  her  own  account,  Piid  backed  by  a 
little  more  wit  and  a  good  deal  more  money  than  what  Kate 
could  be  fairly  thought  to  possess.  Nothing  fur'lher  in  that 
quarter  offering  in  the  way  of  her  occupation,  she  turned  her 
horses'  heads  towards  London,  that  great  theatre  on  which 
there  never  was  a  loss  for  actors.  The  salutations  had  hardly 
passed  before,  turning  to  John,  she  exclaimed,  Avith  what  she 
intended  for  a  most  motherly  smile,  "  What !  not  shooting 
this  fine  day,  Mr.  Moseley  ?  I  thought  you  never  missed  ? 
day  m  the  season." 

"  It  is  rather  early  yet,  my  lady,"  said  John,  coolly,  a  littU 
alarmed  by  the  expression  of  her  countenance. 

*'  Oh  !"  continued  the  dowager,  in  the  same  strain,  *'  I  se* 
how  it  is ;  the  ladies  have  too  many  attractions  for  so  gallanf 
a  young  man  as  yourself."  Now,  as  Grace,  her  own  daugli- 
ter,  was  the  only  lady  of  the  party  who  could  reasonably  b« 
supposed  to  have  much  influence  over  John's  movements — i 
young  gentleman  seldom  caring  as  much  for  his  own  as  fo 
other  people's  sisters,  this  may  bo  fairly  set  down  as  a  prettj 


164  PRECAUTION. 

broad  hint  of  the  opinion  the  dowager  entertained  of  the  real 
state  of  things;  and  John  saw  it,  and  Grace  saw  it.  The 
former  coolly  replied,  "  Why,  upon  the  whole,  if  you  will  ex- 
cuse the  neglect,  I  will  try  a  shot  this  fine  day."  In  five 
minutes,  Carlo  and  Rover  were  both  delighted.  Grace  kept 
her  place  at  the  window,  from  a  feehng  she  could  not  define, 
and  of  which  perhaps  she  was  unconscious,  until  the  gate 
closed,  and  the  shi-ubbery  hid  the  sportsman  from  her  sight, 
and  then  she  withdrew  to  her  room  to  weep. 

Had  Grace  Chatterton  been  a  particle  less  delicate — less 
retiring — blessed  with  a  managing  mother,  as  she  was,  John 
Moseley  would  not  have  thought  another  moment  about  her. 
But,  on  every  occasion  when  the  dowager  made  any  of  her 
open  attacks,  Grace  discovered  so  much  distress,  so  much 
unwilhngness  to  second  them,  that  a  suspicion  of  a  confede- 
racy never  entered  his  brain.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that 
Lady  Chatterton 's  manoeuvres  were  limited  to  the  direct  and 
palpable  schemes  we  have  mentioned ;  no — these  were  the 
effervescence,  the  exuberance  of  her  zeal ;  but  as  is  generally 
the  case,  they  sufficiently  proved  the  ground-work  of  all  her 
other  machinations  ;  none  of  the  little  artifices  of  such  as  pla- 
cing— of  leaving  alone — of  showing  similarity  of  tastes — of 
compliments  to  the  gentlemen,  were  neglected.  —  This  latter 
business  she  had  contrived  to  get  Catherine  to  take  off  her 
hands  ;  but  Grace  could  never  pay  a  compliment  in  her  life, 
imless  changing  of  color,  trembling,  undulations  of  the  bosom, 
and  such  natural  movements  can  be  so  called ;  but  she  loved 
dearly  to  receive  them  from  John  Moseley. 

"  Well,  my  child,"  said  the  mother,  as  she  seated  herself 
by  the  side  of  her  daughter,  who  hastily  endeavored  to  con- 
ceal her  tears,  "  when  are  we  to  have  another  wedding  ?  I 
trust  everything  is  settled  between  you  and  Mr.  Moseley,  by 
this  time." 


PRECAUTION.  165 

"  Mother !  Mother  !"  said  Grace,  nearly  gasping  for  breath, 
"  Mother,  you  will  break  my  heart,  indeed  you  will."  Sh^ 
hid  her  face  in  the  clothes  of  the  bed  by  which  she  sat,  and 
wept  with  a  feeling  of  despair. 

"  Tut,  my  dear,"  replied  the  dowager,  not  noticing  her  an 
guish,  or  mistaking  it  for  agirhsh  shame,  "  you  young  people 
are  fools  in  these  matters,  but  Sir  Edward  and  myself  will 
arrange  everything  as  it  should  be." 

The  daughter  now  not  only  looked  up,  but  sprang  from  her 
seat,  her  hands  clasped  together,  her  eyes  fixed  in  horror,  her 
cheek  pale  as  death ;  but  the  mother  had  retired,  and  Grace 
sank  back  into  her  chair  with  a  sensation  of  disgrace,  of 
despair,  which  could  not  have  been  surpassed,  had  she  really 
merited  the  obloquy  and  shame  which  she  thought  weio 
about  to  be  heaped  upon  her* 


166  PRECAUTIOir. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  succeeding  morning,  the  whole  party,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Denbigh,  returned  to  the  hall.  Nothing  had 
occurred  out  of  the  ordinary  course  of  the  colonel's  assidui- 
ties: and  Jane,  whose  sense  of  propriety  forbad  the  indul- 
gence of  premeditated  tete-a-tetes,  and  such  little  accompani- 
ments of  every-day  attachments,  was  rejoiced  to  see  a  sister 
she  loved,  and  an  aunt  she  respected,  once  more  in  the  bosom 
of  her  family. 

The  dowager  impatiently  waited  an  opportunity  to  effect, 
what  she  intended  for  a  master-stroke  of  policy  in  the  dis- 
posal of  Grace.  Like  all  other  managers,  she  thought  no  one 
equal  to  herself  in  devising  ways  and  means,  and  was  unwil- 
ling to  leave  anything  to  nature.  Grace  had  invariably 
thwarted  all  her  schemes  by  her  obstinacy ;  and  as  she 
thought  young  Moseley  really  attached  to  her,  she  determined 
by  a  bold  stroke  to  remove  the  impediments  of  false  shame, 
and  the  dread  of  repulse,  which  she  believed  alone  kej^t  the 
youth  from  an  avowal  of  his  wishes,  and  get  rid  at  once  of  a 
plague  that  had  annoyed  her  not  a  Httle — her  daughter's 
dehcacy. 

Sir  Edward  spent  an  hour  every  morning  in  his  library, 
overlooking  his  accounts,  and  in  other  necessary  employments 
of  a  similar  nature,  and  it  was  here  she  determined  to  have 
the  conference. 

"My  Lady  Chatterton,  you  do  me  honor,"  said  the  baronet, 
handing  her  a  chair  on  her  entrance. 

"  Upon  my  word,  cousin,"  cried  the  dowager,  "  you  have 


PRECAUTION.  167 

a  very  convenient  apartment  here,"  looking  around  her  in 
aflfected  admiration  of  all  she  saw. 

The  baronet  replied,  and  a  short  discourse  on  the  arrange* 
ments  of  the  whole  house  insensibly  led  to  some  remarks  on 
the  taste  of  his  mother,  the  Honorable  Lady  Moseley  (a 
Chatterton),  until,  having  warmed  the  feelings  of  the  old 
gentleman  by  some  well-timed  compliments  of  that  nature, 
the  ventured  on  the  principal  object  of  her  visit. 

"  I  am  happy  to  find,  Sir  Edward,  you  are  so  well  pleased 
with  the  family  as  to  wish  to  make  another  selection  from  it. 
I  sincerely  hope  it  may  prove  as  judicious  as  the  former 
one." 

Sir  Edward  was  a  little  at  a  loss  to  understand  her  mean- 
ing, although  he  thought  it  might  allude  to  his  son,  who  he 
had  some  time  suspected  had  views  on  Grace  Chatterton; 
and  willing  to  know  the  truth,  and  rather  pleased  to  find 
John  had  selected  a  young  woman  he  loved  in  his  heart,  he 
observed — 

"  I  am  not  sure  I  rightly  understand  your  ladyship,  though 
I  hope  I  do." 

"  No !"  cried  the  dowager,  in  well-counterfeited  affectation 
of  surprise.  "  Perhaps,  after  all,  maternal  anxiety  has 
Ideceived  me,  then.  Mr.  Moseley  could  hardly  have  ventured 
to  proceed  without  your  approbation." 

"  I  have  ever  declined  influencing  any  of  my  children.  Lady 
Chatterton,"  said  the  baronet,  "  and  John  is  not  ignorant  of 
riy  sentiments.  I  sincerely  hope,  however,  you  allude  to  an 
attachment  to  Grace  ?" 

"  I  did  certainly,  Sir  Edward,"  said  the  lady,  hesitatingly 
'  I  may  be  deceived  ;  but  you  must  undei-stand  the  feelings 
of  a  mother,  and  a  young  woman  ought  not  to  be  trifled 
with." 

"  My  son  is  incapable  of  trifling,  I  hope,"  cried  Sir  Edward, 


1C8  PRECAUTION. 

with  animation,  "  and,  least  of  all,  with  Grace  Chatterton 
No ;    you  are  quite  right.     If  he  has  made  his  choice,  ho 
should  not  be  ashamed  to  avow  it." 

"  I  would  not  wish,  on  any  account,  to  hurry  matters,** 
said  the  dowager ;  "  but  the  report  which  is  abroad  wil 
prevent  other  young  men  from  putting  in  their  claims,  Sir 
Edward"  (sighing).  "  I  have  a  mother's  feelings :  if  I  hav 
been  hasty,  your  goodness  will  overlook  it."  And  Lady 
Chatterton  placed  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  to  conceal 
the  tears  that  did  not  flow. 

Sir  Edward  thought  all  this  very  natural,  and  as  it 
should  be,  and  he  sought  an  early  conference  with  his 
son. 

"  John,"  said  the  father,  taking  his  hand  kindly,  "  you  have 
no  reason  to  doubt  my  affection  or  my  compliance  to  your 
wishes.  Fortune  is  a  thing  out  of  the  question  with  a  young 
man  of  your  expectations."  And  Sir  Edward,  in  his  eager- 
ness to  smoothe  the  way,  went  on :  "  You  can  live  here,  or 
occupy  my  small  seat  in  Wiltshire.  I  can  allow  you  five 
thousand  a  year,  with  much  ease  to  myself.  Indeed,  your 
mother  and  myself  would  both  straighten  ourselves,  to  add 
to  your  comforts ;  but  it  is  unnecessary — we  have  enough, 
and  you  have  enough." 

Sir  Edward,  in  a  few  moments,  would  have  settled  every- 
thing to  the  dowager's  perfect  satisfaction,  had  not  John 
interrupted  him  by  the  exclamation  of — 

"To  what  do  you  allude,  father?" 

"Allude?"  said  Sir  Edward,  simply.  *'Why,  Grace 
Chatterton,  my  son." 

"  Grace  Chatterton !  Su*  Edward.  What  have  I  to  do 
with  Grace  Chatterton  ?" 

"  Her  mother  has  made  me  acquainted  with  your  proposals, 
and" 


PRECAUTION.  1G9 

"  Proposals !" 

"Attentions,  I  ought  to  have  said ;  and  you  have  no 
reason  to  apprehend  anything  from  me,  my  child." 

"Attentions !"  said  John,  haughtily.  "  I  hope  Lady 
Chatterton  does  not  accuse  me  of  improper  attentions  to  her 
daughter  ?" 

"  No,  not  improper,  my  son,"  said  his  father :  "  on  the  con 
trary,  she  is  much  pleased  with  them." 

"  She  is,  is  she  ?  But  I  am  displeased  that  she  should 
undertake  to  put  constructions  on  my  acts  that  no  attention 
or  words  of  mine  will  justify." 

It  was  now  Sir  Edward's  turn  to  be  surprised.  He  had 
thought  he  was  doing  his  son  a  kindness,  when  he  had  only 
been  forwarding  the  dowager's  schemes;  but  averse  from 
contention,  and  wondering  at  his  cousin's  mistake,  which  he 
at  once  attributed  to  her  anxiety  in  behalf  of  a  favorite 
daughter,  he  told  John  he  was  sorry  there  had  been  any 
misapprehension,  and  left  him. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Moseley,  internally,  as  he  paced  up  and 
down  his  father's  library,  "my  lady  dowager,  you  are  not 
going  to  force  a  wife  down  my  throat.  If  you  do,  I  am 
mistaken  ;  and  Grace,  if  Grace" — John  softened  and  began 
to  feel  unhappy  a  little,  but  anger  prevailed. 

From  the  moment  Grace  Chatterton  conceived  a  dread  of 
her  mother's  saying  anything  to  Sir  Edward,  her  whole  con- 
duct was  altered.  She  could  hardly  look  any  of  the  family 
in  the  face,  arid  it  was  her  most  ardent  wish  that  they  might 
depart.  John  she  avoided  as  she  would  an  adder,  although 
it  nearly  broke  her  heart  to  do  so. 

Mr.  Benfield  had  stayed  longer  than  usual,  and  he  now 
wished  to  return.  John  Moseley  eagerly  profited  by  this 
opportunity,  and  the  very  day  after  the  conversation  in  the 
librarv  he  went  to  Benfield  Lodge  as  a  dutiful  nephew,  to 

8 


}  70  PRKCAUTIOK. 

see  his  venerable  uncle  safely  restored  once  more  to  the  abode 
of  his  ancestors. 

Lady  Chatterton  now  perceived,  when  too  late,  that  she 
had  overshot  her  mark,  while,  at  the  same  time,  she  wondered 
at  the  reason  of  a  result  so  strange  from  such  well-digested 
and  well-conducted  plans.  She  determined,  however,  never 
again  to  interfere  between  her  daughter  and  the  baronet  ^ 
heir ;  concluding,  with  a  nearer  approach  to  the  truth  than 
always  accompanied  her  deductions,  that  they  resembled 
ordinary  lovere  in  neither  their  temperaments  nor  opinions. 

Perceiving  no  further  use  in  remaining  any  longer  at  the 
hall,  she  took  her  leave,  and,  accompanied  by  both  hei 
daughters,  proceeded  to  the  capital,  where  she  expected  to 
meet  her  son. 

Dr.  Ives  and  his  wife  returned  to  the  rectory  on  the  same 
day,  and  Denbigh  immediately  resumed  his  abode  under 
their  roof.  The  intercourse  between  the  rector's  family  and 
Sir  Edward's  was  renewed  with  all  its  former  friendly 
confidence. 

Colonel  Egerton  began  to  speak  of  his  departure  also,  but 

hinted  at  intentions  of  visiting  L at  the  period  of  the 

baronet's  visit  to  his  uncle,  before  he  proceeded  to  town  in 
the  winter. 

L was  a  small  village  on  the  coast,  within  a  mile  of 

Benfield  Lodge;  and  from  its  natural  convenience,  it  had 
long  been  resorted  to  by  the  neighboring  gentry  for  the 
benefit  of  sea  bathing.  The  baronet  had  promised  Mr. 
Benfield  his  visit  should  be  made  at  an  earher  day  ihau 
usual,  in  order  to  gratify  Jane  with  a  visit  to  Bath,  before 
they  went  to  London,  at  which  town  they  were  promised  by 
Mrs.  Jarvis  the  pleasure  of  her  society,  and  that  of  her  son 
And  daughters. 

Precaution  is  a  word  of  simple  meaning  in  itself,  but  va 


PRECAUTION.  171 

rious  are  the  ways  adopted  by  different  individuals  in  this  life 
to  enforce  its  import ;  and  not  a  few  are  the  evils  which  it  is 
thought  necessary  to  guard  against.  To  provide  in  season . 
against  the  dangers  of  want,  personal  injury,  loss  of  charac- 
ter, and  a  great  many  other  such  acknowledged  misfortunes, 
has  become  a  kind  of  instinctive  process  of  our  natures.  The 
few  exceptions  which  exist  only  go  to  prove  the  rule :  in  ad- 
dition to  these,  almost  every  man  has  some  ruling  propensity 
to  gratify,  to  advance  which  his  ingenuity  is  ever  on  the 
alert,  or  some  apprehended  evil  to  avert,  which  calls  all  his 
prudence  into  activity.  Yet  how  seldom  is  it  exerted,  in 
order  to  give  a  rational  ground  to  expect  permanent  happi- 
ness in  wedlock. 

Marriage  is  called  a  lottery,  and  it  is  thought,  like  all  other 
lotteries,  there  are  more  blanks  than  prizes ;  yet  is  it  not  made 
more  precarious  than  it  ought  to  be,  by  our  neglect  of  that 
degree  of  precaution  which  we  would  be  ridiculed  for  omit- 
ting in  conducting  our  every-day  concerns  ?  Is  not  the  stand 
ard  of  matrimonial  felicity  placed  too  low  ?  Ought  we  not  to 
look  more  to  the  possession  of  principles  than  to  the  posses- 
sion of  wealth  1  Or  is  it  at  all  justifiable  in  a  Christian  to 
commit  a  child,  a  daughter,  to  the  keeping  of  a  man  who 
wants  the  very  essential  they  acknowledge  most  necessary  to 
constitute  a  perfect  character  ?  Most  men  revolt  at  infidelity 
in  a  woman,  and  most  men,  however  Hcentious  themselves, 
look  for,  at  least,  the  exterior  of  religion  in  their  wives.  The 
education  of  their  children  is  a  serious  responsibility;  and 
although  seldom  conducted  on  such  rules  as  will  stand  the 
test  of  reason,  it  is  not  to  be  entirely  shaken  otf :  they  choose 
their  early  impressions  should  be  correct,  their  infant  conduct 
at  least  blameless.  And  are  not  one  half  mankind  of  the 
male  sex  ?  Are  precepts  in  religion,  in  morals,  only  for  fe- 
males ?    Are  we  to  reverse  the  theory  of  the  Mahomraedans, 


172  PRECAUTION. 

•and  thougli  we  do  not  believe  it,  act  as  if  men  had  no  souls  • 
Is  not  the  example  of  the  father  as  important  to  the  son  as 
that  of  the  mother  to  the  daughter  ?  In  short,  is  there  any 
security  against  the  commission  of  enormities,  but  an  humble 
and  devout  dependence  on  the  assistance  of  that  Almighty 
Power,  which  alone  is  able  to  hold  us  up  against  temp- 
tation ? 

Uniformity  of  taste  is  no  doubt  necessary  to  what  we  call 
love,  but  is  not  taste  acquired  ?  Would  our  daughters  ad- 
mire a  handsome  deist,  if  properly  impressed  with  a  horror 
of  his  doctrines,  sooner  than  they  now  would  admire  a  hand- 
some Mahommedan  ?  We  would  refuse  our  children  to  a 
pious  dissenter,  to  give  them  to  impious  membei*s  of  the  es- 
tablishment :  we  make  the  substance  less  than  the  shadow. 

Our  principal  characters  are  possessed  of  these  diversified 
views  of  the  evils  to  be  averted.  Mrs.  Wilson  considers  Chris- 
tianity an  indispensable  requisite  in  the  husband  to  be  per- 
mitted to  her  charge,  and  watches  against  the  possibility  of 
any  other  than  a  Christian's  gaining  the  affections  of  Emily. 
Lady  Chatterton  considers  the  want  of  an  establishment  as 
the  unpardonable  sin,  and  directs  her  energies  to  prevent  this 
evil ;  while  John  Moseley  looks  upon  a  free  will  as  the  birth- 
right of  an  Englishman,  and  is,  at  the  present  moment,  anx- 
iously alive  to  prevent  the  dowager's  making  him  the  hus- 
band of  Grace,  the  thmg  of  all  others  he  most  strenuously 
desires. 


PRBCAUTIOK.  lis 


CHAPTER  XVnL 

John  Moselet  returned  from  L witMn  a  week,  and 

appeared  as  if  his  whole  delight  consisted  in  knocking  over 
the  inoffensive  birds.  His  restlessness  induced  him  to  make 
Jarvis  his  companion ;  for  although  he  abhorred  the  captain's 
style  of  pursuing  the  sport,  being  in  his  opinion  both  out  of 
rule  and  without  taste,  yet  he  was  a  constitutional  fidget,  and 
suited  his  own  moving  propensities  at  the  moment.  Egerton 
and  Denbigh  were  both  frequently  at  the  hall,  but  generally 
gave  their  time  to  the  ladies,  neither  being  much  inclined  to 
the  favorite  amusement  of  John. 

There  was  a  little  arbor  within  the  walls  of  the  park,  which 
for  years  had  been  a  retreat  from  the  summer  heats  to  the 
ladies  of  the  Moseley  family ;  even  so  long  as  the  youth  of 
Mrs,  Wilson  it  had  been  in  vogue,  and  she  loved  it  with  a 
kind  of  melancholy  pleasure,  as  the  spot  where  she  had  first 
hstened  to  the  language  of  love  from  -the  lips  of  her  late 
husband.  Into  this  arbor  the  ladies  had  one  day  retired, 
during  the  warmth  of  a  noon-day  sun,  with  the  exception  of 
Lady  Moseley,  who  had  her  own  engagement  in  the  house 
Between  Egerton  and  Denbigh  there  was  maiatained  a  kind 
of  courtly  intercourse,  which  prevented  any  disagreeable  col- 
lision from  their  evident  dislike.  Mrs.  Wilson  thought,  on 
the  part  of  Denbigh,  it  was  the  forbearance  of  a  principled 
indulgence  to  another's  weakness  ;  while  the  colonel's  other- 
wise uniform  good  breeding  was  hardly  able  to  conceal  a 
sometliing  amounting  to  very  near  repugnance.  Egertou 
had  taken  his  seat  on  the  ground,  near  the  feet  of  Jane ;  and 


174  PKKCAUTIOX. 

Deubigh  was  stationed  on  a  bench  placed  without  the  arbor 
but  so  near  as  to  have  the  full  benefit  of  the  shade  of  the 
noble  oak,  branches  of  which  had  been  trained  so  as  Ko  com- 
pose its  principal  covering.  It  might  have  been  accident, 
that  gave  each  his  particular  situation;  but  it  is  certain  they 
were  so  placed  as  not  to  be  in  sight  of  each  other,  and  so 
placed  that  the  colonel  was  ready  to  hand  Jane  her  scissors, 
or  any  other  little  implement  that  she  occasionally  dropped, 
and  that  Denbigh  could  read  every  hneament  of  the  animated 
countenance  of  Emily  as  she  listened  to  his  description  of  the 
curiosities  of  Egypt,  a  country  in  which  he  had  spent  a  few 
months  while  attached  to  the  army  in  Sicily.  In  this  situa- 
tion we  will  leave  them  for  an  hour,  happy  in  the  society  of 
each  other,  while  we  trace  the  route  of  John  Moseley  and 
his  companion,  in  their  pursuit  of  woodcock,  on  the  same  day. 

"  Do  you  know,  Moseley,"  said  Jarvis,  who  began  to  think 
he  was  a  favorite  with  John,  now  that  he  was  admitted  to 
his  menus  plaisirs^  "  that  I  have  taken  it  into  my  head  this 
Mr.  Denbigh  was  very  happy  to  plead  his  morals  for  not 
meeting  me.  He  is  a  soldier,  but  I  cannot  find  out  what 
battles  he  has  been  in." 

"Captain  Ja>-yis,"  said  John,  coolly,  "the  less  you  say 
about  that  business  the  better.      Call  in  Rover." 

Now,  another  of  Jarvis's  recommendations  was  a  set  of 
lungs  that  might  have  been  heard  half  a  mile  with  great  ease 
m  a  still  mornmg. 

"  Why,"  said  Jarvis,  rather  humbly,  "  I  am  sensible,  Mi; 
Moseley,  I  was  very  wrong  as  regards  your  sister ;  but  don't 
you  think  it  a  little  odd  in  a  soldier  not  to  fight  when  pro- 
perly called  upon  ?" 

"  I  suppose  Mr.  Denbigh  did  not  think  himself  properly 
called  upon,  or  perhaps  he  had  heard  what  a  great  shot  you 
were." 


PRECAUTION.  1 75 

S"ix  months  before  his  appearance  in  B ,  Captain  Jarvis 

•ad  been  a  clerk  in  the  counting-room  of  Jarvis,  Baxter  & 
Oo.,  and  had  never  held  fire-arras  of  any  kind  in  his  hand, 
with  the  exception  of  an  old  blunderbuss,  which  had  been  a 
kind  of  sentinel  over  the  iron  chest  for  years.  On  mounting 
the  cockade,  he  had  taken  up  shooting  as  a  martial  exercise, 
inasmuch  as  the  burning  of  gunpowder  was  an  attendant  of 
the  recreatioH.  He  had  never  killed  but  one  bird  in  his  life, 
and  that  was  an  owl,  of  which  he  took  the  advantage  of  day- 
light and  his  stocking  feet  to  knock  off  a  tree  in  the  deanery 
grounds,  very  early  after  his  arrival.  In  his  trials  with  John, 
he  sometimes  pulled  trigger  at  the  same  moment  with  his 
companion ;  and  as  the  bird  generally  fell,  he  thouglit  he  had 
an  equal  claim  to  the  honor.  He  was  fond  of  warring  with 
crows  and  birds  of  the  larger  sort,  and  invariably  went  pro- 
vided with  small  balls  fitted  to  the  bore  of  his  fowling-piece 
for  such  accidental  rencontres.  He  had  another  habit,  which 
was  not  a  little  annoying  to  John,  who  had  several  times 
tried  in  vain  to  break  him  of  it — that  of  shooting  at  marks. 
If  birds  were  not  plenty,  he  would  throw  up  a  chip,  and 
sometimes  his  hat,  by  way  of  shooting  on  the  wing. 

As  the  day  was  excessively  hot,  and  the  "game  kept  close, 
John  felt  willing  to  return  from  such  unprofitable  labor. 
The  captain  now  commenced  his  chip  firing,  which  in  a  few 
minutes  was  succeeded  by  his  hat. 

"See,  Moseley,  see;    I  have  hit   the  band,"  cried   the 
aptain,  delighted  to  find  he  had  at  last  wounded  his  old 
antagonist.     "  I  don't  think  you  can  beat  that  yourself." 

"  I  am  not  sure  I  can,"  said  John,  slipping  a  handful  of 
gravel  in  the  muzzle  of  his  piece  slily,  "  but  I  can  do  as  you 
did— try." 

"  Do,"  cried  the  captain,  pleased  to  get  his  companion 
down  to  his  own  level  of  amusements.     "  Are  you  ready  ?" 


176  PRECAUTION. 

"  Yes ;  throw." 

Jarvis  threw,  and  John  fired :  the  hat  fairly  bounced. 

"  Have  I  hit  it  ?"  asked  John,  while  reloading  the  barrel 
he  had  discharged. 

.  "  Hit  it !"  said  the  captain,  looking  ruefully  at  his  hat.  "  It 
looks  like  a  cullender ;    but,  Moseley,  your  gun  don't  scatte 
well :  a  dozen  shot  have  gone  through  in  the  same  place." 

"  It  does  look  rather  like  a  cullender,"  said  John,  as  he 
overlooked  his  companion's  beaver,  "  and,  by  the  size  of  some 
of  the  holes,  one  that  has  been  a  good  deal  used." 

The  reports  of  the  fowling-pieces  announced  to  the  party 
in  the  arbor  the  return  of  the  sportsmen,  it  being  an  invariable 
practice  with  John  Moseley  to  discharge  his  gun  before  he 
came  in ;  and  Jarvis  had  imitated  him,  from  a  wish  to  be 
what  he  called  in  rule. 

*'  Mr.  Denbigh,"  said  John,  as  he  put  down  his  gun, 
'*  Captain  Jarvis  has  got  the  better  of  his  hat  at  last." 

Denbigh  smiled  without  speaking ;  and  the  captain,  un- 
wiUing  to  have  anything  to  say  to  a  gentleman  to  whom  he 
had  been  obliged  to  apologize,  went  into  the  arbor  to  show 
the  mangled  condition  of  his  head-piece  to  the  colonel,  on 
whose  sympathies  he  felt  a  kind  of  claim,  being,  of  the  same 
corps.  John  complained  of  thirst,  and  went  to  a  little  run  of 
water  but  a  short  distance  from  them,  in  order  to  satisfy  it. 
The  interruption  of  Jarvis  was  particularly  unseasonable. 
Jane  was  relating,  in  a  manner  pecuhar  to  herself,  in  which 
was  mingled  that  undefinable  exchange  of  looks  lovers  are  so 
fond  of,  some  incident  of  her  early  life  to  the  colonel  that 
greatly  interested  him.  Knowing  the  captain's  foibles,  he 
pomted,  therefore,  with  his  finger,  as  he  said — 

"  There  is  one  of  your  old  enemies,  a  hawk." 

Jarvis  threw  down  his  hat,  and  ran  with  boyish  eagerness 
to  drive  away  the  intruder.     In  his  haste,  he  caugiit  up  the 


PRECAUTION.  177 

gun  of  John  Moseley,  and  loading  it  rapidly,  threw  in  a  ball 
from  his  usual  stock ;  but  whether  the  hawk  saw  and  knew 
him,  or  whether  it  saw  something  else  it  liked  better,  it  made 
a  dart  for  the  baronet's  poultry-yard  at  no  great  distance, 
and  was  out  of  sight  in  a  minute.  Seeing  that  his  foe  had 
vanished,  the  captain  laid  the  piece  where  he  had  found 
it,  and,  recovering  his  old  train  of  ideas,  picked  up  his  hat 
again. 

"  John,"  said  Emily,  as  she  approached  him  affectionately, 
"  you  were  too  warm  to  drink." 

"  Stand  off,  sis,"  cried  John,  playfully,  taking  up  the  gun 
from  against  the  body  of  the  tree,  and  dropping  it  towards 
her. 

Jarvis  had  endeavored  to  make  an  appeal  to  the  com« 
miseration  of  Emily  in  favor  of  the  neglected  beaver,  and  was 
within  a  few  feet  of  them.  At  this  moment,  recoilinof  from 
the  muzzle  of  the  gun,  he  exclaimed,  "It  is  loaded !" 
"Hold,"  cried  Denbigh,  in  a  voice  of  horror,  as  he  sprang 
between  John  and  his  sister.  Both  were  too  late ;  the  piece 
was  discharged.  Denbigh,  turning  to  Emily,  and  smiling 
mournfully,  gazed  for  a  moment  at  her  with  an  expression  of 
tenderness,  of  pleasure,  of  sorrow,  so  blended  that  she  retained 
the  recollection  of  it  for  life,  and  fell  at  her  feet. 

The  gun  dropped  from  the  nerveless  grasp  of  young 
Moseley.  Emily  sank  in  insensibility  by  the  side  of  her  pre- 
server. Mrs.  Wilson  and  Jane  stood  speechless  and  aghast. 
The  colonel  alone  retained  the  presence  of  mind  necessary  to 
devise  the  steps  to  be  immediately  taken.  He  sprang  to  the 
examination  of  Denbigh  ;  the  eyes  of  the  wounded  man  were 
open.,  and  his  recollection  perfect :  the  first  weie  fixed  in  in- 
tense observation  on  the  inanimate  body  which  lay  at  hia 
side. 

*'  Leave  me,  Colonel  Egerton,"  he  said,  speaking  with  dif- 
8* 


178  PRECAUTION. 

ficulty,  and  pointing  in-  the  direction  of  the  little  run  of  watei, 
*'  assist  Miss  Moseley — your  hat — your  hat  will  answer." 

Accustomed  to  scenes  of  blood,  and  not  ignorant  that  time 
and  care  were  the  remedies  to  be  applied  to  the  wounded 
man,  Egerton  flew  to  the  stream,  and  returning  immediately, 
by  the  help  of  her  sister  and  Mrs.  Wilson,  soon  restored 
Emily  to  life.  The  ladies  and  John  had  now  begun  to  act. 
The  tenderest  assiduities  of  Jane  were  devoted  to  her  sister; 
while  Mrs.  Wilson  observing  her  niece  to  be  uninjured  by 
anything  but  the  shock,  assisted  John  in  supporting  the 
wounded  man. 

Denbigh  spoke,  requesting  to  be  carried  to  the  house ;  and 
Jarvis  was  despatched  for  help.  Within  half  an  hour,  Den- 
bigh was  placed  on  a  couch  in  the  house  of  Sir  Edward,  and 
was  quietly  waiting  for  that  professional  aid  which  could  only 
decide  on  his  probable  fate.  The  group  assembled  in  the' 
room  were  in  fearful  expectation  of  the  arrival  of  the  sur- 
geons, in  pursuit  of  whom  messengers  had  been  sent  both  to 

the  barracks  in  F and  to  the  town  itself.     Sir  Edward 

sat  by  the  side  of  the  sufferer,  holding  one  of  his  hands 
in  his  own,  now  turning  his  tearful  eyes  on  that  daugh- 
ter who  had  so  lately  been  rescued  as  it  were  from  the  cer- 
tainty of  death,  in  mute  gratitude  and  thanksgiving  ;  and  now 
dwelling  on  the  countenance  of  him,  who,  by  bravely  inter- 
posing his  bosom  to  the  blow,  had  incurred  in  his  own  person 
the  imminent  danger  of  a  similar  fate,  with  a  painful  sense  of 
his  perilous  situation,  and  devout  and  earnest  prayers  for  his 
safety.  Emily  was  with  her  father,  as  with  the  i-est  of  his 
family,  a  decided  favorite ;  and  no  reward  would  have  been 
Rufficient,  no  gratitude  lively  enough,  in  the  estimation  of 
the  baronet,  to  compensate  the  protector  of  such  a  child. 
She  sat  between  her  mother  and  Jane,  with  a  hand  held 
by  each,  pale  and  oppressed  with  a  load  of  gratitude,  of 


PRECAUTIOIS".  179 

thanksgiving,  of  woe,  that  almost  bowed  her  to  the  earth. 
Lady  Moseley  and  Jane  were  both  sensibly  touched  with  the 
deliverance  of  Emily,  and  manifested  the  interest  they  took 
in  her  by  the  tenderest  caresses,  while  Mrs.  Wilson  sat  calmly 
collected  within  herself,  occasionally  giving  those  few  direc- 
tions which  were  necessary  under  the  ciicumstances,  and  ofter- 
ng  up  her  silent  petitions  in  behalf  of  the  sufferer.  John  had 
aken  horse  immediately  for  F ,  and  Jarvis  had  volun- 
teered tc  go  to  the  rectory  and  Bolton.  Denbigh  inquired  fre- 
quentfy  and  with  much  anxiety  for  Dr.  Ives ;  but  the  rector 
was  absent  from  home  on  a  visit  to  a  sick  parishioner,  and  it 
was  late  in  the  evening  before  he  arrived.  Within  three 
hours  of  the  accident,  however,  Dr.  Black,  the  surgeon  of  the 
th,  reached  the  hall,  and  immediately  proceeded  to  ex- 
amine the  wound.  The  ball  had  penetrated  the  right  breast, 
and  gone  directly  through  the  body ;  it  was  extracted  with 
very  little  difficulty,  and  his  attendant  acquainted  the  anxious 
friends  of  Denbigh  that  the  heart  certainly,  and  he  .hoped 
the  lungs,  had  escaped  uninjured.  The  ball  was  a  very  small 
one,  and  the  principal  danger  to  be  apprehended  was  from 
fever :  he  had  taken  the  usual  precautions  against  that,  and 
should  it  not  set  in  with  a  violence  gi-eater  than  he  appre- 
hended at  present,  the  patient  might  be  abroad  within  the 
month. 

"  But,"  continued  the  surgeon,  with  the  hardened  indiffe- 
rence of  his  profession,  "  the  gentleman  has  had  a  narrow 
chance  in  the  passage  of  the  ball  itself ;  half  an  inch  would 
have  settled  his  accounts  with  this  world." 

This  information  greatly  relieved  the  family,  and  orders 
were  given  to  preserve  a  silence  in  the  house  that  would  favor 
the  patient's  disposition  to  quiet,  or,  if  possible,  sleep 

Dr.  Ives  now  reached  the  hall.  Mrs.  Wilson  had  never 
seen  the  sector  in  the  agitation,  or  with  the  want  of  self-com- 


180  PRECAUTION. 

mand  he  was  in,  as  she  met  him  at  the  entrance  of  the 
house. 

"  Is  he  ahve  ? — is  there  hope  ? — where  is  George  ?" — cried 
the  doctor,  as  he  caught  the  extended  hand  of  Mrs.  Wilson. 
She  briefly  acquainted  him  with  the  surgeon's  report,  and  the 
reasonable  ground  there  was  to  expect  Denbigh  would  sur 
vive  the  injury. 

"May  God  be  praised,"  said  the  rector,  in  a  suppressed 
voice,  and  he  hastily  withdrew  into  another  room.  Mrs. 
Wilson  followed  him  slowly  and  in  silence ;  but  was  checked 
on  opening  the  door  with  the  sight  of  the  rector  on  his  knees, 
the  teai-s  stealing  down  his  venerable  cheeks  in  quick  succes- 
sion. "  Surely/'  thought  the  widow,  as  she  drew  back  un- 
noticed, "  a  youth  capable  of  exciting  such  afiection  in  a  man 
like  Dr.  Ives,  cannot  be  unworthy." 

Denbigh,  hearing  of  the  arrival  of  his  friend,  desired  to  see 
him  alone.  Their  conference  was  short,  and  the  rector  re- 
turned from  it  with  increased  hopes  of  the  termination  of  this 
dreadful  accident.  He  immediately  left  the  hall  for  his  own 
house,  with  a  promise  of  returning  early  on  the  following 
morning. 

During  the  night,  however,  the  symptoms  became  unfa- 
vorable ;  and  before  the  return  of  Dr.  Ives,  Denbigh  was  in 
a  state  of  delirium  from  the  height  of  his  fever,  and  the  ap- 
prehensions of  his  friends  were  renewed  with  additional 
force. 

"  What,  what,  my  good  sir,  do  you  think  of  him  ?"  said  the 
baronet  to  the  family  physician,  with  an  emotion  that  the 
danger  of  his  dearest  child  would  not  have  exceeded,  and 
within  hearing  of  most  of  his  children,  who  were  collected  iii 
the  ante-chamber  of  the  room  in  which  Denbigl^  was 
placed. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  say,  Sir  Edward,"  replied  thf   physi 


p:>kcal"tiox.  181 

cian  :  **  he  refuses  all  medicines,  and  unless  this  fever  abates, 
there  is  but  Httle  hope  of  recovery." 

Emily  stood  during  this  question  and  answer,  motionless, 
pale  as  death,  and  with  her  hands  clasped  together,  betraying 
by  the  workings  of  her  fingers  in  a  kind  of  convulsive  motion, 
the  intensity  of  her  interest.  She  had  seen  the  draught  pre- 
pared which  it  was  so  desirable  that  Denbigh  should  take, 
and  it  now  stood  rejected  on  a  table,  where  it  could  be  seen 
through  the  open  door  of  his  room.  Almost  breathless,  she 
glided  in,  and  taking  the  draught  in  her  hand,  she  approached 
the  bed,  by  which  sat  John  alone,  hstening  with  a  feeling  of 
despair  to  the  wanderings  of  the  sick  man.  .  Emily  hesitated 
once  or  twice,  as  she  drew  near  Denbigh ;  her  face  had  lost 
the  paleness  of  anxiety,  and  glowed  with  another  emotion. 

"  Mr.  Denbigh — dear  Denbigh,"  said  Emily,  with  energy, 
unconsciously  dropping  her  voice  into  the  softest  notes  of 
persuasion,  "  will  you  refuse  me  ? — me,  Emily  Moseley,  whose 
life  you  have  saved '?" 

"  Emily  Moseley !"  repeated  Denbigh,  and  in  those  tones 
Bo  remarkable  to  his  natural  voice.  "  Is  she  safe  ?  I  thought 
she  was  killed — dead."  Then,  as  if  recollecting  himself,  he 
gazed  intently  on  her  countenance — his  eye  became  less  fiery 
— his  muscles  relaxed — he  smiled,  and  took,  with  the  docility 
of  a  well-trained  child,  the  prescribed  medicines  from  her 
hand.  His  ideas  still  wandered,  but  his  physician,  profiting 
by  the  command  Emily  possessed  over  his  patient,  increased 
his  care,  and  by  night  the  fever  had  abated,  and  before 
morning  the  wounded  man  was  in  a  profound  sleep.  During 
the  whole  day,  it  was  thought  necessary  to  keep  Emily  by 
the  side  of  his  bed ;  but  at  times  it  was  no  trifling  tax  on  her 
feelings  to  remain  there.  He  spoke  of  her  by  name  in  the 
tenderest  manner,  although  incoherently,  and  in  terms  thai 
restored  to  the  blanched  cheeks  of  the  distressed  girl  morf 


182  PRECAUTION. 

than  the  richness  of  their  native  color.  His  thoughts  were 
not  confined  to  Emily,  however :  he  talked  of  his  father,  of 
his  mother,  and  frequently  spoke  of  his  poor  deserted  Marian. 
The  latter  name  he  dwelt  on  in  the  language  of  the  warmest 
affection,  condemned  his  own  desertion  of  her,  and,  taking 
Emily  for  her,  would  beg  her  forgiveness,  tell  her  her  suffer- 
ings had  been  enough,  and  that  he  would  retui-n,  and  never 
leave  her  again.  At  such  moments  his  nui-se  would  some- 
times show,  by  the  paleness  of  her  cheeks,  her  anxiety  for 
his  health;  and  then,  as  he  addressed  her  by  her  proper 
appellation,  all  her  emotions  appeared  absorbed  in  the  sense 
of  shame  at  the  praises  with  which  he  overwhelmed  her. 
Mrs.  Wilson  succeeded  her  in  the  chai-ge  of  the  patient,  and 
slie  retired  to  seek  that  repose  she  so  greatly  needed. 

On  the  second  mornins^  after  receivino^  the  wound,  Denbio^h 
dropped  into  a  deep  sleep,  from  which  he  awoke  refreshed 
and  perfectly  collected  in  mind.  The  fever  had  left  him,  and 
his  attendants  pronounced,  with  the  usual  cautions  to  prevent 
a  relapse,  his  recovery  certain.  It  were  impossible  to  have 
communicated  any  intelligence  more  grateful  to  all  the 
members  of  the  Moseley  family  ;  for  Jane  had  even  lost  sight 
of  her  own  lover,  in  sympathy  for  the  fate  of  a  man  who  had 
sacrificed  himself  to  save  he  •  beloved  sister. 


PRECAUTION.  183 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  recovery  of  Denbigh  was  as  rapid  as  the  most  sanguine 
txpectation  of  his  friends  could  hope  for,  and  in  ten  days  he 
left  his  bed,  and  would  sit  an  hour  or  two  at  a  time  in  Lis 
dressing-ioora,  where  Mrs.  Wilson,  accompanied  by  Jane  or 
Emily,  came  and  read  to  him ;  and  it  was  a  remark  of  Sir 
Edward's  gamekeeper,  that  the  woodcocks  had  become  so 
t>ame  during  the  time  Mr.  Moseley  was  shut  up  in  attendance 
on  his  friend,  that  Captain  Jarvis  was  at  last  actually  seen  to 
bag  one  honestly. 

As  Jarvis  felt  something  like  a  consciousness  that  but  for 
his  folly  the  accident  would  not  have  happened,  and  also 
something  very  like  shame  for  the  manner  he  had  shrunk 
from  the  danger  Denbigh  had  so  nobly  met,  he  pretended  a 
recall  to  his  regiment,  then  on  duty  near  London,  and  left 
the  deanery.  He  went  off  as  he  came  in — in  the  colonel's 
tilbury,  and  accompanied  by  his  friend  and  his  pointers. 
John,  who  saw  them  pass  from  the  windows  of  Denbigh's 
dressing-room,  fervently  prayed  he  might  never  come  back 
again — the  chip-shooting  poacher ! 

.  Colonel  Egerton  had  taken  lea  le  of  Jane  the  evening  pre- 
ceding, with  many  assurances  of  the  anxiety  with  which  he 
should  look  forward   to   the  moment  of  their  meeting  at 

L ,  whither  he  intended  repairing  as  soon  as  his  corps 

had  gone  through  its  annual  review.  Jane  had  followed  the 
bent  of  her  natural  feelings  too  much,  during  the  period  of 
Denbigh's  uncertain  fate,  to  think  much  of  her  lover,  or  any- 
thing else  but  her  rescued  sister  and  hei-  preserver ;    but  now 


Ib4  PRKCAUTION. 

the  former  was  pronounced  in  safety,  and  the  latter,  I'v  f"'  '^ 
very  reaction  of  her  grief,  wa^,  if  possible,  happier  than  ever, 
Jane  dwelt  in  melancholy  sadness  on  the  perfections  of  the 
man  who  had  taken  with  him  the  best  affections  (as  she 
ihought)  of  her  heart.  With  him  all  was  perfect :  hi* 
morals  were  unexceptionable ;  his  manners  showed  it ;  his 
tenderness  of  disposition  manifest,  for  they  had  wept  together 
over  the  distresses  of  more  than  one  fictitious  heroine ;  his 
temper,  how  amiable !  he  was  never  angry — she  had  never 
Been  it ;  his  opinions,  his  tastes,  how  correct !  they  wei-e  her 
own ;  his  form,  his  face,  how  agreeable  ! — her  eyes  had  seen 
it,  and  her  heart  acknowledged  it ;  besides,  his  eyes  confessed 
the  power  of  her  own  charms ;  he  was  brave,  for  he  was  a 
soldier; — in  short,  as  Emily  had  predicted,  he  was  a  hero — 
for  he  was  Colonel  Egerton. 

Had  Jane  been  possessed  of  less  exuberance  of  fancy,  she 
might  have  been  a  httle  at  a  loss  to  identify  all  these  good 
properties  with  her  hero :  or  had  she  possessed  a  rfatured  or 
well-regulated  judgment  to  control  that  fancy,  they  might 
possibly  have  assumed  a  different  appearance.  No  explana- 
tion had  taken  place  between  them,  however.  Jane  knew, 
both  by  her  own  feehngs  and  by  all  the  legends  of  love  from 
its  eai'liest  days,  that  the  moment  of  parting  was  generally  a 
crisis  in  affairs  of  the  heart,  and,  \^th  a  backwardness  occa- 
sioned by  her  modesty,  had  rather  avoided  than  sought  ^n 
opportunity  to  favor  the  colonel's  wishes.  Egerton  had  no 
been  over  anxious  to  come  to  the  point,  and  everything  wjl 
Jeft  as  heretofore :  neither,  howev^er,  appeared  to  doubt  in  th( 
least  the  state  of  the  other's  affections ;  and  there  might  b( 
said  to  exist  between  them  one  of  those  not  unusual  engage 
ments  by  implication  which  it  would  have  been,  in  their  own 
estimation,  a  breach  of  faith  to  recede  from,  but  which,  like 
all   other   bargains    that   are    loosely   made,   are   sometimes 


PRECAUTION.  185 

violated  when  conveuient.  Man  is  a  creature  that,  as  expe- 
rience has  sufficiently  proved,  it  is  necessary  to  keep  in  his 
proper  place  in  society  by  wholesome  restrictions ;  and  we 
have  often  thought  it  a  matter  of  regret  that  some  well 
understood  regulations  did  not  exist  by  which  it  became  not 
only  customary,  but  incumbent  on  him,  to  proceed  in  his  road 
to  the  temple  of  Hymen.  We  know  that  it  is  ungenerous, 
ignoble,  almost  unprecedented,  to  doubt  the  faith,  the  con- 
stancy, of  a  male  paragon ;  yet,  somehow,  as  the  papers 
occasionally  give  us  a  sample  of  such  infidelity ;  as  we  have 
sometimes  seen  a  solitary  female  brooding  over  her  woes  in 
silence,  and,  with  the  seemliness  of  feminine  decorum  shrink- 
ing from  the  discoveiy  of  its  cause,  or  which  the  grave  has 
revealed  for  the  first  time,  we  cannot  but  wish  that  either  the 
watchfulness  of  the  parent,  or  a  sense  of  self-preservation  in 
the  daughter,  would,  for  the.  want  of  a  better,  cause  them  to 
adhere  to  those  old  conventional  forms  of  courtshijD  which 
require  a  man  to  speak  to  be  understood,  and  a  woman  to 
answer  to  be  committed. 

There  was  a  little  parlor  in  the  house  of  Sir  Edward  Mose- 
ley,  that  was  the  privileged  retreat  of  none  but  the  membei-s 
of  his  own  family.  Here  the  ladies  were  accustomed  to 
withdraw  into  the  bosom  of  their  domestic  quietude,  when 
occasional  visitors  had  disturbed  their  ordinary  intercourse ; 
and  many  were  the  hasty  and  unreserved  communications  it 
had  witnessed  between  the  sistei-s,  in  their  stolen  flights  from 
the  graver  scenes  of  the  principal  apartments.  It  might  be 
aid  to  be  sacred  to  the  pious  feelings  of  the  domestic  afifec- 
tions.  Sir  Edward  would  retire  to  it  when  fatigued  with  his 
occupations,  certain  of  finding  some  one  of  those  he  loved  to 
draw  his  thoughts  off  from  the  cares  of  life  to  the  little  inci- 
dents of  his  children's  happiness  ;  and  Lady  Moseley,  even  in 
the  proudest  hours  of  her  reviving  s|)lendor,  seldom  passed 


18G  PRECAUTION. 

the  door  without  looking  in,  with  a  sinile,  on  the  faces  she 
might  find  there.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  room  in  the  large  man- 
sion of  the  baronet,  expressly  devoted,  by  long  usage  and 
common  consent,  to  the  purest  feelings  of  human  nature. 
Into  this  apartment  Denbigh  bad  gained  admission,  as  the 
one  nearest  to  his  own  room  and  requiring  the  least  effort  of 
his  returning  strength  to  reach  ;  and,  perhaps,  by  an  undefina- 
ble  feeling  of  the  Moseleys  which  had  begun  to  connect  him 
with  themselves,  partly  from  his  winning  manners,  and  partly 
by  the  sense  of  the  obligation  he  had  laid  them  under. 

One  warm  day,  John  and  his  friend  had  sought  this  re- 
treat, in  expectation  of  meeting  his  sisters,  who  they  found, 
however,  on  inquiry,  had  walked  to  the  arbor.  After  re- 
maining conversing  for  an  hour  by  themselves,  John  was 
called  away  to  attend  to  a  pointer  that  had  been  taken  ill,  and 
Denbigh  throwing  a  handkerchief  over  his  head  to  guard 
against  the  danger  of  cold,  quietly  composed  himself  on  one 
of  the  comfortable  sofas  of  the  room,  with  a  disposition  to 
sleep.  Before  he  had  entirely  lost  his  consciousness,  a  light 
step  moving  near  him,  caught  his  ear ;  believing  it  to  be  a 
servant  unwilling  to  disturb  him,  he  endeavored  to  continue 
in  his  present  mood,  until  the  quick  but  stifled  breathing  of 
some  one  nearer  than  before  roused  his  curiosity.  He  com- 
manded himself,  however,  sufficiently,  to  remain  quiet;  a 
blind  of  a  window  near  him  was  carefully  closed ;  a  screen 
drawn  from  a  corner  and  placed  so  as  sensibly  to  destroy  the 
slight  draught  of  air  in  which  he  laid  himself;  and  othei  ai- 
rangeraents  were  making,  but  with  a  care  to  avoid  disturbing 
him  that  rendered  them  hardly  audible.  Presently  the  step 
approached  him  again,  the  breathing  was  quicker,  though 
gentle,  the  handkerchief  was  moved,  but  the  hand  was  wilh 
drawn  hastily  as  if  afraid  of  itself.  Another  effort  was  suc- 
cessful, and  Denbigh  stole  a  glance  through  his  dark  lashes, 


PRECAUTION.  187 

on  the  figure  of  Emily  as  she  stood  over  him  in  the  fulness 
of  her  charms,  and  with  a  face  in  which  glowed  an  interest 
he  had  never  witnessed  in  it  before.  It  undoubtedly  was 
gratitude.  For  a  moment  she  gazed  on  him,  as  her  color 
increased  in  richness.  His  hand  was  carelessly  thrown  over 
an  arm  of  the  sofa;  she  stooped  towards  it  with  her  face 
gently,  but  with  an  air  of  modesty  that  shone  in  her  very 
figure.  Denbigh  felt  the  warmth  of  her  breath,  but  her  lips 
did  not  touch  it.  Had  he  been  incHned  to  judge  the  actions 
of  Emily  Moseley  harshly,  it  were  impossible  to  mistake  the 
movement  for  anything  but  the  impulse  of  natural  feeling. 
There  was  a  pledge  of  innoc^ce,  of  modesty  in  her  counte- 
nance, that  would  have  prevented  any  misconstruction  ;  and 
he  continued  quietly  awaiting  what  the  preparations  on  her 
Uttle  mahogany  secretary  were  intended  for. 

Mrs.  Wilson  entertained  a  great  abhorrence  of  what  is 
commonly  called  accomplishments  in  a  woman ;  she  knew 
that  too  much  of  that  precious  time  which  could  never  be 
recalled,  was  thrown  away  in  endeavoring  to  acquire  a  smat- 
tering in  what,  if  known,  could  never  be  of  use  to  the  party, 
and  what  can  never  be  well  known  but  to  a  few,  whom  na- 
ture and  long  practice  have  enabled  to  conquer.  Yet  as  her 
niece  had  early  manifested  a  taste  for  painting,  and  a  vivid 
perception  of  the  beauties  of  nature,  her  inclination  had  been 
indulged,  and  Emily  Moseley  sketched  with  neatness  and  ac- 
curacy, and  with  great  readiness.  It  would  have  been  no 
subject  of  surprise,  had  admiration,  or  some  more  powerful 
feeling,  betrayed  to  the  artist,  on  this  occasion,  the  deception 
the  young  man  was  practising.  She  had  entered  the  room 
from  her  walk,  warm  and  careless  ;  her  hair,  than  which  none 
was  more  beautiful,  had  strayed  on  her  shoulders,  freed  from 
the  confinement  of  the  comb,  and  a  lock  was  finely  contrasted 
to  the  rich  color  of  a  cheek  that  almost  burnt  with  the  ex€T- 


188  PRECAUTION. 

cise  and  the  excitement.  Her  dress,  white  as  the  fii-st  snow 
of  the  winter ;  her  looks,  as-  she  now  turned  them  on  the  face 
of  the  sleeper,  and  betrayed  by  their  animation  the  success  of 
her  art ;  formed  a  picture  in  itself,  that  Denbigh  would  have 
been  content  to  gaze  on  for  ever.  Her  back  was  to  a  window, 
that  threw  its  strong  light  on  the  paper — the  figures  of  which 
were  reflected,  as  she  occasionally  held  it  up  to  study  its 
effect,  in  a  large  mirror  so  placed  that  Denbigh  caught  a  view 
of  her  subject.  He  knew  it  at  a  glance — the  arbor— the 
gun — himself,  all  were  there ;  it  appeared  to  have  been  drawn 
before — it  must  have  been,  from  its  perfect  state;  and  Emily 
had  seized  a  favorable  momentr  to  complete  his  own  resem- 
blance. Her  touches  were  light  and  finishing,  and  as  the 
picture  was  frequently  held  up  for  consideration,  he  had  some 
time  allowed  for  studying  it.  His  own  resemblance  was 
strong ;  his  eyes  were  turned  on  herself,  to  whom  Denbigh 
thought  she  had  not  done  ample  justice,  but  the  man  who 
held  the  gun  bore  no  hkeness  to  John  Moseley,  except  in 
dress.  A  slight  movement  of  the  muscles  of  the  sleeper's 
mouth  might  have  betrayed  his  consciousness,  had  not  Emily 
been  too  intent  on  the  picture,  as  she  turnedit  in  such  a  waj 
that  a  strong  light  fell  on  the  recoiling  figure  of  Captain  Jar- 
vis.  The  resemblance  was  wonderful.  Denbigh  thought  he 
would  have  known  it,  had  he  seen  it  in  the  Academy  itself. 
The  noise  of  some  one  approaching  closed  the  portfoho ;  it 
was  only  a  servant,  yet  Emily  did  not  resume  her  pencil 
Denbigh  watched  her  motions,  as  she  put  the  picture  care 
fully  in  a  private  drawer  of  the  secretary,  reopened  the  blind 
replaced  the  screen,  and  laid  the  handkerchief,  the  last  thing 
Dn  his  face,  with  a  movement  almost  imperceptible  to  himself 
*'  It  is  later  than  1  thought,"  said  Denbigh,  looking  at  his 
watch ;  "  I  owe  an  apology.  Miss  Moseley,  for  making  so  free 
with  your  parlor ;  but  I  was  too  lazy  to  move." 


PRECAUTION.  189 

"Apology!  Mr.  Denbigh,"  cried  Emily,  with  a  color  vary- 
ing with  every  word  she  spoke,  and  trembling  at  what  she 
thought  the  nearness  of  detection,  "  you  have  no  apology  to 
make  for  your  present  debility ;  and  surely,  surely,  least  of  all 
to  me  !" 

"I  undei-stand  from  Mr.  Moseley,"  continued  Denbigh, 
with  a  smile,  "  that  our  obligation  is  at  least  mutual ;  to  your 
persevemnce  and  care,  Miss  Moseley,  after  the  physicians  had 
given  me  up,  I  believe  I  am,  under  Providence,  indebted  for 
my  recovery." 

Emily  was  not  vain,  and  least  of  all  addicted  to  a  display 
of  any  of  her  acquirements  ;  very  few  even  of  her  friends 
knew  she  ever  held  a  pencil  in  lier  hand ;  yet  did  she  now 
unaccountably  throw  open  her  portfolio,  and  offer  its  con- 
tents to  the  examination  of  her  companion.  It  was  done 
almost  instantaneously,  and  with  great  freedom,  though  not 
without  certain  flushings  of  the  face  and  heavings  of  the 
bosom,  that  would  have  eclipsed  Grace  Chatterton  in  her 
happiest  moments  of  natural  flattery.  Whatever  might  have 
been  the  wishes  of  Mr.  Denbigh  to  pursue  a  subject  which 
had  begun  to  grow  extremely  interesting,  both  from  its  import 
and  the  feelings  of  the  parties,  it  would  have  been  rude  to 
decline  viewing'  the  contents  of  a  lady's  portfoho.  The 
drawings  were,  many  of  them,  interesting,  and  the  exhibitor 
of  them  now  appeared  as  anxious  to  remove  them  in  haste,  as 
she  had  but  the  moment  before  been  to  direct  his  attention 
to  her  performances.  Denbigh  would  have  given  much  to 
dare  to  ask  for  the  paper  so  carefully  secreted  in  the  private 
drawer;  but  neither  the  principal  agency  he  had  himself  in 
the  scene,  nor  delicacy  to  his  companion's  wish  for  conceal- 
ment, would  allow  of  the  request. 

*'  Doctor  Ives  !  how  happy  I  am  to  see  you,"  said  Emily, 
hastily  closing  her  portfolio,  and  before  Denbigh  had  gone 


100  PRECAUTTOX. 

half  through  its  contents ;  "  you  have  become  almost  a  stran- 
ger to  us  since  Clara  left  us," 

"No,  no,  my  little  friend,  never  a  stranger,  I  hope,  at 
Moseley  Hall,"  cried  the  doctor,  pleasantly ;  "  George,  I  am 
happy  to  see  you  look  so  well — you  have  even  a  color — there 
is  a  letter  for  you,  from  Marian." 

Denbigh  took  the  letter  eagerly,  and  retired  to  a  window 
to  peruse  it.  His  hand  shook  as  he  broke  the  seal,  and  his 
interest  in  the  writer,  or  its  contents,  could  not  have  es- 
caped the  notice  of  any  observer,  however  indifferent. 

"  Now,  Miss  Emily,  if  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  ordei 
me  a  glass  of  wine  and  water  after  my  ride,  believe  me,  you 
will  do  a  very  charitable  act,"  cried  the  doctor,  as  he  took 
his  seat  on  the  sofa. 

Emily  was  standing  by  the  little  table,  deeply  musing  on 
the  contents  of  her  portfolio ;  for  her  eyes  were  intently  fixed 
on  the  outside,  as  if  she  expected  to  see  through  the  leather 
covering  their  merits  and  faults. 

"  Miss  Emily  Moseley,"  continued  the  doctor,  gravely,  *'  am 
I  to  die  of  thirst  or  not,  this  warm  day  ?" 

"  Do  you  wish  anything,  Doctor  Ives  ?" 

"  A  servant  to  get  me  a  glass  of  wine  and  water." 

'*  Why  did  you  not  ask  me,  my  dear  sir?"  said  Emily,  as 
she  threw  open  a  cellaret,  and  handed  him  what  he  wanted 

''  There,  my  dear,  there  is  a  great  plenty,"  said  the  doctor, 
with  an  arch  expression ;  "  I  really  thought  I  had  asked  you 
thrice — but  I  believe  you  were  studying  something  in  that 
portfolio." 

Emily  blushed,  and  endeavored  to  laugh  at  her  own  ab 
eence  of  mind ;  but  she  would  have  given  the  world  to  Jsno^ 
who  Marian  was. 


PRECAUTION.  191 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Asa  month  had  elapsed  since  he  received  his  wound,  Den- 
bgh  took  an  opportunity,  one  morning  at  breakfast,  where 
lie  was  well  enough  now  to  meet  his  friends,  to  announce  his 
intention  of  trespassing  no  longer  on  their  kindness,  but  of 
returning  that  day  to  the  rectory.  The  communication  dis- 
tressed the  whole  family,  and  the  baronet  turned  to  him  in 
the  most  cordial  manner,  as  he  took  one  of  his  hands,  and 
said  with  an  air  of  solemnity — 

"  Mr.-  Denbigh,  I  could  wish  you  to  make  this  house  your 
home ;  Dr.  Ives  may  have  known  you  longer,  and  may  have 
the  claim  of  relationship  on  you,  but  I  am  certain  he  cannot 
love  you  better ;  and  are  not  the  ties  of  gratitude  as  binding 
as  those  of  blood  ?" 

Denbigh  was  affected  by  the  kindness  of  Sir  Edward's 
manner. 

"  The  regiment  I  belong  to,  Sir  Edward,  will  be  reviewed 
next  week,  and  it  has  become  my  duty  to  leave  here ;  there 
is  one  it  is  proper  I  should  visit,  a  near  connexion,  who  is  ac- 
quainted with  the  escape  I  have  met  with,  and  wishes  natu- 
Tilly  to  see  me;  besides,  my  dear  Sir  Edward,  she  has  many 
ciuses  of  sorrow,  and  it  is  a  debt  I  owe  her  affection  to  en- 
deavor to  relieve  them." 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  spoken  of  his  family,  or 
hardly  of  himself,  and  the  silence  which  prevailed  plainly 
showed  the  interest  his  listeners  took  in  the  little  he  uttered. 

That  connexion,  thought  Emily — I  wonder  if  her  name  be 
Marian  ?     But  nothing  further  passed,  excepting  the   affec- 


102  PRECAUTION. 

tionatfe  regrets  of  her  father,  and  the  promises  of  Denbigh  to 

visit  them  again  before  he  left  B ,  and  of  joining  them 

at  L immediately   after   the  review  of  which  he  had 

spoken.     As  soon  as  he  had  breakfasted,  John  drove  him  in 
his  phaeton  to  the  rectory. 

Mrs.  Wilson,  like  the  rest  of  the  baronet's  family,  had  been 
too  deeply  impressed  with  the  debt  they  owed  this  young 
man  to  interfere  with  her  favorite  system  of  caution  against 
too  great  an  intimacy  between  her  niece  and  her  preserver. 
Close  observation  and  the  opinion  of  Dr.  Ives  had  prepared 
her  to  give  him  her  esteem;  but  the  gallantry,  the  self- 
devotion  he  had  displayed  to  Emily  was  an  act  calculated  to 
remove  heavier  objections  than  she  could  imagine  as  likely 
to  exist  to  his  becoming  her  husband.  That  he  meant  it,  was 
evident  from  his  whole  deportnient  of  late.  Since  the  morn- 
ing the  portfolio  was  produced,  Denbigh  had  given  a  more 
decided  preference  to  her  niece.  The  nice  discrimination  of 
Mrs.  Wilson  would  not  have  said  his  feelings  had  become 
stronger,  but  that  he  labored  less  to  conceal  them.  That  he 
loved  her  niece  she  suspected  from  the  first  fortnight  of  their 
acquaintance,  and  it  had  given  additional  stimulus  to  her  in- 
vestigation into  his  character ;  but  to  doubt  it,  after  stepping 
between  her  and  death,  would  have  been  to  have  mistaken 
human  nature.  Tkere  was  one  qualification  she  would  have 
wished  to  have  been  certain  he  possessed :  before  this  accident, 
she  would  have  made  it  an  indispensable  one ;  but  the  gra- 
titude, the  affections  of  Emily,  she  believed  now  to  be  too 
deeply  engaged  to  make  the  strict  inquiry  she  otherwise 
would  have  done ;  and  she  had  the  best  of  reasons  for 
believing  that  if  Denbigh  were  not  a  true  Christian,  he  w^i^s 
at  least  a  strictly  moral  man,*and  assuredly  one  who  well 
understood  the  beauties  of  a  religion  she  almost  conceived  it 
impossible  for  any  impartial  and  intelligent  man  long  to  resist 


PRECAUTION.  193 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Wilson,  haviug  in  some  measure  interfered  with 
Q«ir  system,  hke  others,  had,  on  finding  it  impossible  to  con- 
duct so  that  reason  would  justify  all  she  did,  began  to  find 
reasons  for  what  she  thought  best  to  be  done  under  the 
circumstances.  Denbigh,  however,  both  by  his  acts  and  his 
opinions,  had  created  such  an  estimate  of  his  worth  in  the 
breast  of  Mrs.  Wilson,  that  there  would  have  been  but  little 
danger  of  a  repulse  had  no  fortuitous  accident  helped  him  in 
his  way  to  her  favor. 

"Who  have  we  here?"  said  Lady  Moseley.  "A  landaulet 
and  four — the  Earl  of  Bolton,  I  declare !" 

Lady  Moseley  turned  from  the  window  with  that  collected 
grace  she  so  well  loved,  and  so  well  knew  how  to  assume,  to 
receive  her  noble  visitor.  Lord  Bolton  was  a  bachelor  of 
sixty-five,  who  had  long  been  attached  to  the  court,  and 
retained  much  of  the  manners  of  the  old  school.  His  prin- 
cipal estate  was  in  Ireland,  and  most  of  that  time  which  his 
duty  at  Windsor  did  not  require  he  gave  to  the  improvement 
of  his  Irish  property.  Thus,  although  on  perfectly  good 
terms  with  the  baronet's  family,  they  seldom  met.  With 
General  Wilson  he  had  been  at  college,  and  to  his  widow  he 
always  showed  much  of  that  regard  he  had  invariably  pro- 
fessed for  her  husband.  The  obligation  he  had  conferred, 
unasked,  on  Francis  Ives,  was  one  conferred  on  all  his  friends, 
and  his  reception  was  now  warmer  than  usual. 

"  My  Lady  Moseley,"  said  the  earl,  bowing  formally  on  her 
\iand,  "your  looks  do  ample  justice  to  the  air  of  Northamp 
tonshire.     I  hope  you  enjoy  your  usual  health." 

Then,  waiting  her  equally  courteous  answer,  he  paid  his 
comphments,  in  succession,  to  all  the  members  of  the  family ; 
a  mode  undoubtedly  well  adapted  to  discover  their  severaJ 
conditions,  but  not  a  little  tedious  in  its  operations,  and  some- 
what tiresome  lo  the  legs. 

9 


194  PRECAUTION. 

"  We  are  under  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  your  lordsliip,"  said 
Sir  Edward,  in  his  simple  and  warm-hearted  way,  "  that  T  am 
sorry  it  is  not  in  our  power  to  repay  more  amply  than  by  our 
thanks." 

The  earl  was,  or  affected  to  be,  surprised,  as  he  required 
an  explanation. 

"  The  living  at  Bolton,"  said  Lady  Moseley,  with  dignity. 

"Yes,"  continued  her  husband;  "in  giving  the  hving  to 
Frank  you  did  me  a  favor,  equal  to  what  you  would  have 
done  had  he  been  my  own  child ;  and  unsolicited,  too,  my 
lord,  it  was  an  additional  compliment." 

The  earl  sat  rather  uneasy  during  this  speech,  but  the  love 
of  truth  prevailed ;  for  he  had  been  too  much  round  the 
person  of  our  beloved  sovereign  not  to  retain  all  the  impres- 
sions of  his  youth ;  and  after  a  httle  struggle  with  his  self- 
love,  he  answered — 

*'  Not  unsolicited,  Sir  Edward.  I  have  no  doubt,  had  my 
better  fortune  allowed  me  the  acquaintance  of  my  present 
rector,  his  own  merit  would  have  obtained  what  a  sense  of 
justice  requires  I  should  say  was  granted  to  an  applicant  to 
whom  the  ear  of  royalty  itself  would  not  have  been  deaf." 

It  was  the  turn  of  the  Moseleys  now  to  look  surprised,  and 
Sir  Edward  ventured  to  ask  an  explanation. 

"  It  was  my  cousin,  the  Earl  of  Pendennyss,  who  applied 
for  it,  as  a  favor  done  to  himself ;  and  Pendennyss  is  a  man 
not  to  be  refused  anything." 

"  Lord  Pendennyss !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilson,  with  anima 
tion ;  "  and  in  what  way  came  we  to  be  under  this  obligation 
to  Lord  Pendennyss  ?" 

"  He  did  me  the  honor  of  a  call  during  my  visit  to  Ireland, 
madam,"  replied  the  earl ;  "  and  on  inquiring  of  my  steward 
after  his  old  friend,  Doctor  Stevens,  learnt  his  death,  and  the 
claims  of  Mr.  Ives:    but  the  reason  he  gave  me  was   his 


PRECAUTluX.  19A 

»nterest  in  the  widow  of  General  Wilson,"  bowing  with  much 
solemnity  to  the  lady  as  he  spoke. 

"  I  am"  gratified  to  find  the  earl  yet  remembers  us,"  said 
Mm.  Wilson,  strusfirlinoc  to  restrain  her  tears.  *  "  Are  we  to 
hare  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  soon?" 

"  I  received  a  letter  from  him  yesterday,  saying  he  should 
be  here  in  all  next  week,  madam."     And  turning  pleasantly 
to  Jane  and  her  sister,  he  continued,  "  Sir  Edward,  you  hav 
here  rewards  fit  for  heavier  services,  and  the  earl  is  a  great 
admirer  of  female  charms." 

"  Is  he  not  married,  my  lord  ?"  asked  the  baronet,  with 
great  simplicity. 

**  No,  baronet,  nor  engaged ;  but  how  long  he  will  remain 
so  after  his  hardihood  in  venturinjr  into  this  neicrhborhood, 
will,  I  trust,  depend  on  one  of  these  young  ladies." 

Jane  looked  grave — for  trifling  on  love  was  heresy,  in  her 
estimation  ;  but  Emily  laughed,  with  an  expression  in  which 
a  skilful  physiognomist  might  have  read — if  he  means  me,  he 
is  mistaken. 

"  Your  cousin.  Lord  Chatterton,  has  found  interest,  Sir 
Edward,"  continued  the  peer,  "  to  obtain  his  father's  situa- 
tion ;  and  if  reports  speak  truth,  he  wishes  to  become  more 
nearly  related  to  you,  baronet." 

"  I  do  not  well  see  how  that  can  happen,"  said  Sir 
Edward  with  a  smile,  and  who  had  not  art  enough  to  con 
ceal  his  thoughts,  "  unless  he  takes  my  sister  here." 

The  cheeks  of  both  the  young  ladies  now  vied  with  the 
rose ;  and  the  peer,  observing  he  had  touched  on  forbidden 
ground,  added,  "  Chatterton  was  fortunate  to  find  friends 
able  to  bear  up  against  the  powerful  interest  of  Lord 
Haverford." 

"  To  whom  was  he  indebted  for  the  place,  my  lord  ?* 
asked  Mis.  Wilson. 


196  PRECAUTION. 

"  It  was  whispered  at  court,  madam,"  said  tlie  earl. 
sensibly  lowering  his  voice,  and  speaking  with  an  air  of 
mystery  "  and  a  lord  of  the  bed-chamber  is  fonder  of  dis- 
coveries than  a  lord  of  the  council — that  His  Grace  of  Der- 
went  threw  the  whole  of  his  parliamentary  interest  into  the 
scale  on  the  baron's  side,  but  you  are  not  to  suppose," 
raising  his  hand  gracefully,  vnth  a  wave  of  rejection,  "  that 
I  speak  from  authority ;  only  a  surmise,  Sir  Edward,  only 
a  surmise,  my  lady." 

"  Is  not  the  name  of  the  Duke  of  Derwent,  Denbigh  ?" 
inquired  Mrs.  Wilson,  with  a  thoughtful  manner. 

"  Certainly,  madam,  Denbigh,"  replied  the  earl,  with  a 
gravity  with  which  he  always  spoke  of  dignities ;  "one 
of  our  most  ancient  names,  and  descended  on  the  female 
side  from  the  Plantagenets  and  Tudors." 

He  now  rose  to  take  his  leave,  and  on  bowing  to  the 
younger  ladies,  laughingly  repeated  his  intention  of  bringing 
his  cousin  (an  epithet  he  never  omitted),  Pendennyss,  to 
their  feet. 

"  Do  you  think,  sister,"  said  Lady  Moseley,  after  the  earl 
had  retired,  "  that  Mr.  Denbigh  is  of  the  house  of  Der- 
went ?" 

"  I  cannot  say,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilson,  musing,  "  yet  it  i« 
odd,  Chatterton  told  me  of  his  acquaintance  with  Ladr 
Harriet  Denbigh,  but  not  with  the  Duke." 

As  this  was  spoken  in  the  manner  of  a  soliloquy,  ' 
received  no  answer,  and  was  in  fact  but  little  attended  to  b^ 
any  of  the  party,  excepting  Emily,  who  glanced  her  eye  once 
or  twice  at  her  aunt  as  she  was  speaking,  with  an  interest 
the  name  of  Denbigh  never  failed  to  excite.  Harriet  was, 
she  thought,  a  pretty  name,  but  Marian  was  a  prettier ;  if, 
thought  Emily,  I  could  know  a  Marian  Denbigh,  I  am  sure 
I  could  love  her,  and  her  Name  too. 


TRECAITIOS. 


The   Mosek'vs  now  began  to  make  their  preparations  foi 

their  departure  to  L ,  and  the  end   of  the  succeeding 

week  was  fixed  for  the  period  at  which  they  were  to  go. 
Mrs.  Wilson  urged  a  delay  of  two  or  three  days,  in  order  to 
give  her  an  opportunity  of  meeting  with  the  Earl  of  Pen- 
dennyss,  a  young  man  in  whom,  although  she  had  relin- 
quished her  former  romantic  wish  of  uniting  him  to  Emily, 
in  favor  of  Denbigh,  she  yet  felt  a  deep  interest,  growing 
out  of  his  connexion  with  the  last  moments  of  her  husband, 
and  his  uniformly  high  character. 

Sir  Edward  accordingly  acquainted  his  uncle,  that  on  the 
following  Saturday  he  might  expect  to  receive  himself  and 
family,  intending  to  leave  the  hall  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
preceding  day,  and  reach  Benfield  lodge  to  dinner.  This 
arrangement  once  made,  and  Mr.  Benfield  notified  of  it,  was 
unalterable,  the  old  man  holding  a  variation  from  an 
engagement  a  deadly  sin.  The  week  succeeding  the  acci- 
dent which  had  nearly  proved  so  fatal  to  Denbigh,  the 
inhabitants  of  the  hall  were  surpi^sed  with  the  approach  of 
a  being,  as  singular  in  his  manners  and  dress  as  the 
equipage  which  conveyed  him  to  the  door  of  the  house. 
The  latter  consisted  of  a  high-backed,  old-fashioned  sulky, 
loaded  with  leather  and  large-headed  brass  nails;  wheels 
at  least  a  quarter  larger  in  circumference  than  those  of  the 
present  day,  and  wings  on  each  side  large  enough  to  have 
supported  a  full  grown  roc  in  the  highest  regions  of  the 
upper  air.  It  was  drawn  by  a  horse,  once  white,  but  whose 
milky  hue  was  tarnished  through  age  with  large  and 
numerous  red  spots,  and  whose  mane  and  tail  did  not  appear 
to  have  suff*ered  by  the  shears  during  the  present  reign. 
The  being  who  alighted  from  this  antiquated  vehicle  was 
tall  and  excessively  thin,  wore  his  own  hair  drawn  over  his 
almost  naked  head  into  a  long  thin  queue,  which  reached  half 


198  PRECAUTION. 

way  down  his  back,  closely  cased  in  numerous  windings  of 
leather,  or  the  skin  of  some  fish.  His  drab  coat  was  in  shape 
between  a  frock  and  a  close-body— close-body,  indeed,  it 
^Tas ;  for  the  buttons,  which  were  in  size  about  equal  to  an 
old-fashioned  China  saucer,  were  buttoned  to  the  very  throat, 
thereby  setting  oflf  his  shape  to  peculiar  advantage ;  his 
breeches  were  buckskin,  and  much  soiled ;  his  stockings 
blue  yarn,  although  it  was  midsummer ;  and  his  shoes  w  ere 
provided  with  buckles  of  dimensions  proportionate  to  the 
aforesaid  buttons  ;  his  age  might  have  been  seventy,  but  his 
walk  was  quick,  and  the  movements  of  his  whole  system 
showed  great  activity  both  of  mind  and  body.  He  was 
ushered  into  the  room  where  the  gentlemen  were  sitting, 
and  having  made  a  low  and  extremely  modest  bow,  he 
deliberately  put  on  his  spectacles,  thrust  his  hand  into  an 
outside  pocket  of  his  coat,  and  produced  from  under  its 
huge  flaps  a  black  leathern  pocket-book  about  as  large  as 
a  good-sized  octavo  volume  ;  after  examining  the  multitude 
of  papers  it  contained  carefully,  he  selected  a  letter,  and 
having  returned  the  pocket-book  to  its  ample  apartment, 
read  aloud, 

"  For  Sir  Edward  Moseley,  bart.  of  Moseley  Hall,  B , 

Northamptonshire — with  care  and  speed,  by  the  hands  of 
Mr.  Peter  Johnson,  steward  of  Benfield  Lodge,  Norfolk ;" 
and  dropping  his  sharp  voice,  he  stalked  up  to  the  baronet, 
and  presented  the  epistle,  with  another  reverence. 

"  Ah,  my  good  friend,  Johnson,"  said  Sir  Edward  as  soon 
as  he  delivered  his  errand  (for  until  he  saw  the  contents  of 
the  letter,  he  had  thought  some  accident  had  occurred  to 
his  uncle),  "  this  is  the  first  visit  you  have  ever  honored  me 
with ;  come,  take  a  glass  of  wine  before  you  go  to  your 
dinner  ;  let  us  drink,  that  it  may  not  be  the  last." 

"  S  r  Edward  Moseley,  and  you,  honorable  gentlemen,  wili 


PRECAU7T0X.  lOU 

pardon  me,"  replied  the  steward,  in  his  own  solemn  key, 
"  this  is  the  first  time  I  was  ever  out  of  his  majesty's  county 
of  Norfolk,  and  I  devoutly  wish  it  may  prove  the  last — 
Gentlemen,  I  drink  your  honorable  healths." 

This  was  the  only  real  speech  the  old  man  made  during 
his  visit,  unless  an  occasional  monosyllabic  reply  to  a  ques- 
tion could  be  thought  so.  He  remained,  by  Sir  Edward' 
positive  order,  until  the  following  day  ;  for  having  delivered 
his  message,  and  receiving  its  answer,  he  was  about  to  take 
his  departure  that  evening,  thinking  he  might  get  a  good 
piece  on  his  road  homewards,  as  it  wanted  half  an  hour  to 
sunset.  On  the  following  morning,  with  the  sun,  he  was  on 
nis  way  to  the  house  in  which  he  had  been  born,  and  which 
he  had  never  left  for  twenty-four  hours  at  a  time  in  his  life. 
In  the  evening,  as  he  was  ushered  in  by  John  (who  had 
known  him  from  his  own  childhood,  and  loved  to  show  him 
attention)  to  the  room  in  which  he  was  to  sleep,  he  broke 
what  the  young  man  called  his  inveterate  silence,  with, 
"  Young  Mr.  Moseley — young  gentleman — might  I  pre- 
sume— to  ask — to  see  the  gentleman  ?" 

"  What  gentleman  ?"  cried  John,  astonished  at  the  request, 
and  at  his  speaking  so  much. 

"  That  saved  Miss  Emmy's  life,  sir." 

John  now  fully  comprehended  him,  and  led  the  way  to 
Denbigh's  room  ;  he  was  asleep,  but  they  were  admitted  to 
his  bed-side.  The  steward  stood  for  ten  minutes  gazing  on 
the  sleeper  in  silence ;  and  John  observed,  as  he  blew  his 
nose  on  regaining  his  own  apartment,  that  his  little  grey 
eyes  twinkled  with  a  lustre  which  could  not  be  taken  for 
anything  but  a  tear. 

As  the  letter  was  as  characteristic  of  the  writer  as  its 
bearer  was  of  his  vocation,  we  may  be  excused  giving  it  at 
length. 


<«\)0  PRECAUTION. 

**  Dear  Sir  Edward  and  Nephew^ 

"  Your  letter  reached  the  lodge  too  late  to  be  answert-j 
that  evening,  as  I  was  about  to  step  into  my  bed  ;  but  I 
hasten  to  write  my  congratulations,  remembering  the 
often  repeated  maxim  of  my  kinsman  Lord  Gosford,  that 
letters  should  be  answered  immediately ;  indeed,  a  neglect 
of  it  had  very  nigh  brought  about  an  affair  of  honor 
between  the  earl  and  Sir  Stephens  Hallett.  Sii  Stephens 
was  always  opposed  to  us  in  the  House  of  Commons  of  this 
realm ;  and  I  have  often  thought  something  might  have 
passed  in  the  debate  itself,  which  commenced  the  correspon- 
dence, as  the  earl  certainly  told  him  as  much  as  if  he  were  a 
traitor  to  his  King  and  country. 

"  But  it  seems  that  your  daughter  Emily  has  been  rescued 
from  death  by  the  grandson  of  General  Denbigh,  who  sat 
with  us  in  the  house.  Now  I  always  had  a  good  opinion 
of  this  young  Denbigh,  Avho  reminds  me,  every  time  I  Ibok 
at  him,  of  my  late  brother,  your  father-in-law  that  was  ; 
and  I  send  my  steward,  Peter  Johnson,  express  to  the  hall 
in  order  that  he  may  see  the  sick  man,  and  bring  me  back 
a  true  account  how  he  fares  :  for  should  he  be  wanting  for 
anything  within  the  gift  of  Roderic  Benfield,  he  has  only 
to  speak  to  have  it ;  not  that  I  suppose,  nephew,  you  will 
willingly  allow  him  to  suffer  for  anything,  but  Peter  is  a 
man  of  close  observation,  although  he  is  of  few  words,  and 
may  suggest  something  beneficial,  that  might  escape 
younger  heads.  I  pray  for — that  is,  I  hope,  the  young 
man  will  recover,  as  your  letter  gives  great  hopes  ;  and  if  he 
should  want  any  little  matter  to  help  him  along  in  the 
army,  as  I  take  it  he  is  not  over  wealthy,  you  have  now  a 
good  opportunity  to  offer  your  assistance  handsomely ;  and 
that  it  may  not  interfere  with  your  arrangements  for  this 
winter,  your  draft  on  me  for  five  thousand  pounds  will  b%. 


PRECAUTION.  201 

paid  at  sight ;  for  fear  he  may  be  proud,  and  not  choose  to 
accept  your  assistance,  I  have  this  morning  detained  Peter, 
while  he  has  put  a  codicil  to  my  will,  leaving  him  .ten 
thousand  pounds.  You  may  tell  Emily  she  is  a  naughty 
child,  or  she  would  have  written  me  the  whole  story ;  but, 
poor  dear,  I  suppose  she  has  other  things  on  her  mind  just 

now.     God  bless  Mr. that  is,  God   bless  you  all,  and 

try  if  you  cannot  get  a  lieutenant-colonelcy  at  once — the 
brother  of  Lady  Juliana's  friend  was  made  a  lieutenant- 
colonel  at  the  first  step. 

"  RODERIC    BeNFIELD." 

The  result  of  Peter's  reconnoitering  expedition  has  never 
reached  our  knowledge,  unless  the  arrival  of  a  servant  some 
days  after  he  took  his  leave,  with  a  pair  of  enormous  goggles, 
and  which  the  old  gentleman  assured  his  nephew  in  a  note, 
both  Peter  and  himself  had  found  useful  to  weak  eyes  in 
their  occasional  sickness,  might  have  been  owing  to  the 
prudent  forecast  of  the  sagacious  steward. 


*02  rRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  morning  on  which  Denbigh  left  B was  a  melan 

choly  one  to  all  the  members  of  the  little  circle,  in  which  he 
had  been  so  distinguished  for  his  modesty,  his  intelligence, 
and  his  disinterested  intrepidity.  Sfr  Edward  took  an 
opportunity  solemnly  to  express  his  gratitude  for  the  services 
he  had  rendered  him,  and  having  retired  to  his  library, 
delicately  and  earnestly  pressed  his  availing  himself  of  the 
liberal  offer  of  Mr.  Benfield  to  advance  his  interest  in  the 
army. 

"  Look  upon  me,  my  dear  Mr.  Denbigh,"  said  the  good 
baronet,  pressing  him  by  the  hand,  while  the  tears  stood  in 
his  eyes,  "  as  a  father,  to  supply  the"  place  of  the  one  you 
have  so  recently  lost.  You  are  my  child  ;  I  feel  as  a  parent 
to  you,  and  must  be  suffered  to  act  as  one." 

To  this  affectionate  offer  of  Sir  Edward,  Denbigh  replied 
with  an  emotion  equal  to  that  of  the  baronet,  though  he 
declined,  with  respectful  language,  his  offered  assistance  as 
unnecessary.  He  had  friends  powerful  enough  to  advance 
his  interests,  without  resorting  to  the  use  of  money  ;  and 
on  taking  Sir  Edward's  hand,  as  he  left  the  apartment,  he 
added  with  great  warmth,  "  yet,  my  dear  Sir,  the  day  will 
come,  I  hope,  when  I  shall  ask  a  boon  from  your  hands, 
ihat  no  act  of  mine  or  a  life  of  service  could  entitle  me  to 
receive." 

The  baronet  smiled  his  assent  to  a  request  he  already 
understood,  and  Denbigh  withdrew. 

John  Moseley  insisted  on  putting  the  bays  in  requisition  to 


PRECAUTION.  203 

carry  Denbigh  for  the  first  stage,  and  they  now  stood  capa- 
risoned for  the  jaunt,  with  their  master  in  a  less  joyous  mood 
than  common,  waiting  the  appearance  of  his  companion, 

Emily  delighted  in  their  annual  excursion  to  Benfiekl 
Lodge.  She  was  beloved  so  warmly,  and  returned  the 
affection  of  its  owner  so  sincerely,  that  the  arrival  of  the  day 
never  failed  to  excite  that  flow  of  spirits  which  generally 
aicompanies  anticipated  pleasures,  ere  experience  has  proved 
how  trifling  are  the  greatest  enjoyments  the  scenes  of  this 
life  bestow.  Yet  as  the  day  of  their  departure  drew  near, 
her  spirits  sunk  in  proportion ;  and  on  the  morning  of  Den- 
bigh's leave-taking,  Emily  seemed  anything  but  excessively 
happy.  There  was  a  tremor  in  her  voice  and  a  redness  about 
her  eyes  that  alarmed  Lady  Moseley ;  but  as  the  paleness 
of  her  cheeks  was  immediately  succeeded  by  as  fine  a  color 
as  the  heart  could  wish,  the  anxious  mother  allowed  herself 
to  be  persuaded  by  Mrs.  Wilson  there  was  no  danger,  and 
she  accompanied  her  sister  to  her  own  room  for  some  purpose 
of  domestic  economy.  It  was  at  this  moment  Denbigh  en- 
tered :  he  had  paid  his  adieus  to  the  matrons  at  the  door,  and 
been  directed  by  them  to  the  little  parlor  in  quest  of  Emily. 

"I  have  come  to  make  my  parting  compliments,  Miss 
Moseley,"  he  said,  in  a  tremulous  voice,  as  he  ventured  to 
hold  forth  his  hand.  "  May  heaven  preserve  you,"  he  con- . 
tinued,  holding  it  in  fervor  to  his  bosom  :  then  dropping  it, 
he  hastily  retired,  as  if  unwilling  to  trust  himself  any  longer 
to  utter  all  he  felt.  Emily  stood  a  few  moments,  pale  and 
almost  inanimate,  as  the  tears  flowed  rapidly  from  her  eyes , 
and  then  she  sought  a  shelter  in  a  seat  of  the  window.  Lady 
Moseley,  on  returning,  was  alarmed  lest  the  draught  would 
increase  her  indisposition  ;  but  her  sister,  observing  thnt  the 
window  commanded  a  view  of  the  road,  thought  the  aur  too 
mild  to  do  her  injury. 


204  PRECAUTION. 

The  personages  who  composed  the  society  at  B had 

flow,  in  a  great  measure,  separated,  in  pursuit  of  their  duties 
or  their  pleasures.  The  merchant  and  his  family  left  the 
deanery  for  a  watering-place.  Francis  and  Clara  had  gone 
on  a  little  tour  of  pleasure  in  the  northern  counties,  to  take 

L in  their  return  homeward ;   and  the  morning  arrived 

for  the  commencement  of  the  baronet's  journey  to  the  same 
place.  The  carriages  had  been  ordered,  and  servants  werq 
running  in  various  ways,  busily  employed  in  their  several 
occupations,  when  Mrs.  Wilson,  accompanied  by  John  and  his 
sisters,  returned  from  a  walk  they  had  taken  to  avoid  the 
bustle  of  the  house.  A  short  distance  from  the  park  gates, 
an  equipage  was  observed  approaching,  creating  by.  its 
numerous  horses  and  attendants  a  dust  which  drove  the 
pedestrians  to  one  side  of  the  road.  An  uncommonly  elegant 
and  admirably  fitted  travelling  bai-ouche  and  six  rolled  by, 
with  the  graceful  steadiness  of  an  English  equipage  :  several 
servants  on  horseback  were  in  attendance ;  and  our  little 
party  were  struck  with  the  beauty  of  the  whole  establish' 
ment. 

"  Can  it  be  possible  Lord  Bolton  drives  such  elegant 
horses  ?"  cried  John,  with  the  ardor  of  a  connoisseur  in  that 
noble  animal.     '*  They  are  the  finest  set  in  the  kingdom." 

Jane's  eye  had  seen,  through  the  clouds  of  dust,  the 
armorial  bearings,  which  seemed  to  float  in  the  dark  glossy 
panels  of  the  carriage,  and  she  observed,  "  It  is  an  earl'i 
coronet,  but  they  are  not  the  Bolton  arms,"  Mrs.  Wilson  and 
Emily  had  noticed  a  gentleman  reclining  at  his  ease,  as  the 
owner  of  the  gallant  show ;  but  its  passage  was  too  rapid  to 
enable  them  to  distinguish  the  features  of  the  courteous  old 
earl ;  indeed,  Mrs.  Wilson  remarked,  she  thought  him  a 
younger  man  than  her  friend. 

^*Pray,  sir,"   said  John   to  a  tardy  groom,  as  v»e  civilW 


PRECAUTION.  20{ 

walked  Ins  horse  by  the  ladies,  "  who  has  passed  in  thfc 
barouche?" 

"  My  Lord  Pendennyss,  sii'." 

"  Pendennyss !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilson,  with  a  tone  of 
regret,  "  how  unfortunate  !" 

She  had  seen  the  day  named  for  his  visit  pass  without  hi 
arrival,  and  now,  as  it  was  too  late  to  profit  by  the  oppor- 
tunity, he  had  come  for  the  second  time  into  her  neighborhood 
Emily  had  learnt,  by  the  solicitude  of  her  aunt,  to  take  au 
interest  in  the  young  peer's  movements,  and  desired  John  to 
ask  a  question  or  two  of  the  groom. 

"  Where  does  your  lord  stop  to-night?" 

"  At  Bolton  Castle,  sir ;  and  I  heard  my  lord  tell  his  valet 
that  he  intended  staying  one  day  hereabouts,  and  the  day 
after  to-morrow  he  goes  to  Wales,  yorr  honor." 

"  I  thank  you,  friend,"  said  John  ;  when  the  man  spurred 
his  horse  after  the  cavalcade.  The  carriages  were  at  the 
door,  and  Sir  Edward  had  been  hurrying  Jane  to  enter,  as  a 
servant,  in  a  rich  livery  and  well  mounted,  galloped  up  and 
delivered  a  letter  for  Mrs.  Wilson,  who,  on  opening  it,  read 
the  following : 

"  The  Earl  of  Pendennyss  begs  leave  to  present  his  most 
respectful  compliments  to  Mrs.  Wilson  and  the  family  of  Sir 
Edward  Moseley.  Lord  Pendennyss  will  have  the  honor  of 
paying  his  respects  in  person  at  any  moment  that  the  widow 
of  his  late  invaluable  friend,  Lieutenant- General  Wilson,  will 
please  to  appoint. 

Bolton  Castle,  Friday  evening." 

To  this  note  Mrs.  Wilson,  bitterly  regretting  the  necessity 
which  compelled  her  to  forego  the  pleasure  of  meeting  her 
paragon,  wrote  in  reply  a  short  letter,  disliking  the  formalitv 
of  a  note. 


206  precaution. 

*'  My  Lord, 
"  I  sincerely  regret  that  an  engagement  which  cannot  be 
postponed  ^,oinpels  us  to  leave  Moseley  Hall  within  the  hour, 
and  must,  m  consequence,  deprive  us  of  the  pleasure  of  your 
intended  visit.  But  as  circumstances  have  connected  your 
ordship  with  some  of  the  dearest,  although  the  most  melan- 
choly events  of  my  life,  I  earnestly  beg  you  will  no  longer 
consider  us  as  strangers  to  your  person,  as  we  hav2  long- 
ceased  to  be  to  your  character.  It  will  afibrd  me  the  greatest 
pleasure  to  hear  that  there  will  be  a  prospect  of  our  meeting 
in  town  next  winter,  where  I  may  find  a  more  fitting  oppor- 
tunity of  expressing  those  grateful  feelings  so  long  due  to 
your  lordship  from  your  sincere  friend, 

"  Charlotte  Wilson. 
"  Moseley  Hall,  Friday  morning." 

With  this  answer  the  servant  was  despatched,  and  the 
carriages  moved  on.  John  had  induced  Emily  to  trust  her- 
self once  more  to  the  bays  and  his  skill ;  but  on  perceiving 
the  melancholy  of  her  aunt,  she  insisted  on  exchanging  seats 
with  Jane,  who  had  accepted  a  place  in  the  carriage  of  Mrs. 
Wilson.  No  objection  being  made,  Mrs.  Wilson  and  her 
niece  rode  the  first  afternoon  together  in  her  travelling  chaise. 
The  road  run  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  Bolton  Castle,  and 
ihe  ladies  endeavored  in  vain  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  person 
of  the  young  nobleman.  Emily  was  willing  to  gratify  her 
aunt's  propensity  to  dwell  on  the  character  and  history  of  her 
("avorite ;  and  hoping  to  withdraw  her  attention  gradually 
from  more  unpleasant  recollections,  asked  several-  trifling 
questions  relating  to  those  points. 

"  The  earl  must  be  very  rich,  aunt,  from  the  style  he 
maintains." 

"  Very,  my  dear  ;  his  family  I  am  unacquainted  with,  but 


rnncAUTioN.  207 

1  understand  his  title  is  an  extremely  ancient  one  ;  and  some 
one,  I  believe  Lord  Bolton,  mentioned  that  his  estates  in  Wales 
alone,  exceeded  fifty  thousand  a  year." 

'*  Much  good  might  be  done,"  said  Emily,  thoughtfully, 
"  with  such  a  fortune." 

*'  Much  good  is  done,"  cried  her  aunt,  with  fervor.  •'  I 
am  told  by  every  one  who  knows  him,  his  donations  are  large 
and  frequent.  Sir  Herbert  Nicholson  said  he  was  extremely 
simple  in  his  habits,  and  it  leaves  large  sums  at  his  disposal 
every  year." 

"  The  bestowal  of  money  is  not  always  charity,"  said  Emily, 
with  an  arch  smile  and  a  slight  color. 

Mrs.  Wilson  smiled  in  her  turn  as  she  answered,  "not  al- 
ways, but  it  is  charity  to  hope  for  the  best." 

"  Sir  Herbert  knew  him,  then  ?"  said  Emily. 

"  Perfectly  well ;  they  were  associated  together  in  ihe  ser- 
vice for  several  years,  and  he  spoke  of  him  with  a  fervor 
equal  to  my  warmest  expectations." 

The  Moseley  arms  in  F was  kept  by  an  old  butler  of 

the  family,  and  Sir  Edward  every  year,  in  going  to  or  coming 

from  L ,  spent  a  night  under  its  roof.     He  was  i-eceived 

by  its  master  with  a  respect  that  none  who  ever  knew  the 
baronet  well,  could  withhold  from  his  goodness  of  heart  and 
many  virtues. 

"  W^ell,  Jackson,"  said  the  baronet,  kindly,  as  he  was 
feated  at  the  supper  table,  "  how  does  custom  increase  with 
you — I  hope  you  and  the  master  of  the  Dun  Cow  are  more 
amicable  than  formerly." 

"  Why,  Sir  Edward,"  replied  the  host,  who  had  lost  a 
nttle  of  the  deference  of  the  servant  in  the  landlord,  but  none 
of  his  real  respect,  "Mr.  Daniels  and  I  are  more  upon  a 
footing  of  late  than  we  was,  when  your  goodnes?  enabled  me 
to  take  the  house  ;  then  he  got  a.l  the  great  truvelleis,  and 


COS  PRECAUffON. 

for  more  than  a  twelvemonth  I  had  not  a  title  in  my  house 
but  yourself  and  a  great  London  doctor,  that  was  called  here 
to  see  a  sick  person  in  the  town.  He  had  the  impudence  to 
call  me  the  knight  barrow-knight,  your  honor,  and  we  had  a 
quarrel  upon  that  account." 

"  I  am  glad,  however,  to  find  you  are  gaining  in  the  rank 
of  your  customers,  and  trust,  as  the  occasion  has  ceased,  ycu 
will  be  more  inclined  to  be  good-natured  to  each  other." 

"  Why,  as  to  good-nature,  Sir  Edward,  I  lived  with  your 
honor  ten  years,  and  you  must  know  somewhat  of  my  tem- 
per," said  Jackson,  with  the  self-satisfaction  of  an  approving 
conscience ;  "  but  Sam  Daniels  is  a  man  who  is  never  easy 
unless  he  is  left  quietly  at  the  top  of  the  ladder ;  however," 
continued  the  host,  with  a  chuckle,  "  I  have  given  him  a  dose 
lately." 

"■  How  so,  Jackson?"  inquired  the  baronet,  willing  to  gra- 
tify the  man's  wish  to  relate  his  triumphs. 

*'  Your  honor  must  have  heard  mention  made  of  a 
great  lord,  the  Duke  of  Derwent ;  well,  Sir  Edward,  about 
six  weeks  agone  he  passed  through  w^ith  my  Lord  Chatterton." 

"  Chatterton !"  exclaimed  John,  interrupting  him,  "  has  he 
been  so  near  us  again,  and  so  lately  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Moseley,"  replied  Jackson  with  a  look  of  im- 
portance :  "  they  dashed  into  my  yard  with  their  chaise  and 
four,  with  five  servants,  and  would  you  think  it.  Sir  Edward, 
they  hadn't  been  in  the  house  ten  minutes,  before  Daniels 
son  was  fishing  from  the  servants,  who  they  were ;  I  tol  I 
liim,  Sir  Edward — dukes  don't  come  every  day." 

''  How  came  you  to  get  his  grace  away  from  the  Dun  Gov 
— chance  V* 

"  No,  your  honor,"  said  the  host,  pointing  to  his  sign,  and 
bowing  reverently  to  his  old  master,  "  the  Moseley  Arms  did 
it.     Mr.  Daniels  used  to  taunt  me  with  having  worn  a  livery, 


PRECAUTION.  209 

and  has  said  more  than  once  he  could  milk  his  cow,  but  that 
your  honor's  arms  would  never  lift  me  into  a  comfortable  seat 
for  life  ;  so  I  just  sent  him  a  message  by  the  way  of  letting 
him  know  my  good  fortune,  your  honor." 

"  And  what  was  it  ?" 

"  Only  that  your  honor's  arms  had  shoved  a  duke  and  a 
baron  into  my  house — that's  all." 

"  And  I  suppose  Daniels'  legs  shoved  your  messenger  oul 
of  his,"  said  John,  laughing. 

"  No,  Mr.  Moseley  ;  Daniels  would  hardly  dare  do  that 
but  yesterday,  your  honor,  yesterday  evening,  beat  every- 
thing. Daniels  was  seated  before  his  door,  and  I  was  taking 
a  pipe  at  mine,  Sir  Edward,  as  a  coach  and  six,  with  servants 
upon  servants,  drove  down  the  street ;  it  got  near  us,  and  the 
boys  were  reining  the  horses  into  the  yard  of  the  Dun  Cow, 
as  the  gentleman  in  the  coach  saw  my  sign  :  he  sent  a  groom 
to  inquire  who  kept  the  house ;  I  got  up,  your  honor,  and 
told  him  my  name,  sir.  *  Mr.  Jackson,'  said  his  lordship, 
*  my  respect  for  the  family  of  Sir  Edward  Moseley  is  too 
great  not  to  give  my  custom  to  an  old  servant  of  his 
family;  " 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  baronet ;  "  pray  who  was  my  lord  ?" 

*'  The  Earl  of  Pendennyss,  your  honor.  Oh,  he  is  a  sweet 
gentleman,  and  he  asked  all  about  my  living  with  your  honor, 
and  about  Madam  Wilson." 

'•  Did  his  lordship  stay  the  night  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Wilson, 
excessively  gratified  at  a  discovery  of  the  disposition  mani- 
fested by  the  earl  towards  her. 

"Yes,  madam,  he  left  here  after  breakfast." 

"What  message  did  you  send  the  Dun  Cow  this  time, 
Jackson?"  cried  John. 

Jackson  looked  a  little  foolish,  but  the  question  bem^  re- 
peated, he  answered-  "  Why,  sir,  I  was  a  little  crowdec*  for 


i^lO  PRKCAUTIOX. 

room,  and  so  your  honor,  so  I  just  sent  Tom  across  the 
street,  to  know  if  Mr.  Daniels  couldn't  keep  a  couple  of  the 
grooms." 

"  And  Tom  got  his  head  broke." 

"  No,  Mr.  John,  the  tankard  missed  him  ;  but  if — " 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  baronet,  willing  to  change  the  con- 
versation, "  you  have  been  so  fortunate  of  late,  you  can  afford 
to  be  generous ;  and  I  advise  you  to  cultivate  harmony  with 
your  neighbor,  or  I  may  take  my  arms  down,  and  you  may 
lose  your  noble  visiters — see  my  room  prepared." 

"  Yes,  your  honor,"  said  the  host,  and  bowing  respectfully 
he  withdrew. 

"  At  least,  aunt,"  cried  John,  pleasantly,  "  we  have  tho 
pleasure  of  supping  in  the  same  room  with  the  puissant  earlj 
albeit  there  be  twenty-four  hours'  difference  in  the  time." 

"  I  sincerely  wish  there  had  not  been  that  difference,"  ob 
served  his  father,  taking  his  sister  kindly  by  the  hand. 

"  Such  an  equipage  must  have  been  a  harvest  indeed  t( 
Jackson,"  remarked  the  mothei* ;  as  they  broke  up  for  the 
evening. 

The  whole  establishment  at  Benfield  Lodge,  were  drawn 
up  to  receive  them  on  the  following  day  in  the  great  hall, 
and  in  the  centre  was  fixed  the  upright  and  lank  figure  of  its 
master,  with  his  companion  in  leanness,  honest  Peter  Johnson, 
on  his  right. 

"  I  have  made  out,  Sir  Edward  and  my  Lady  Moseley,  to 
get  as  far  a^  my  entrance,  to  receive  the  favor  you  are  coi - 
ferring  upon  me.  It  was  a  rule  in  my  day,  and  one  invarial^ly 
practised  by  all  the  great  nobihty,  such  as  Lord  Gosford — 
and — and — his  sister,  the  lady  Juliana  Dayton,  always  to  re- 
ceive and  quit  their  guests  in  the  country  at  the  great  en- 
trance ;  and  in  conformity — ah,  Emmy  dear,"  cried  the  old 
gentleman,  folding  her  in  his  arms  as  the  tears  rolled  down 


PRECAUTION.  211 

iiis  cheeks,  forgetting  his  speech  in  the  warmth  of  his  feehng, 
"  You  are  saved  to  us  again ;  God  be  praised — there,  that 
will  do,  let  me  breathe — let  me  breathe ;"  and  then  by  the 
way  of  getting  rid  of  his  softer  feelings,  he  turned  upon  John  ; 
"  so,  youngster,  you  would  be  playing  with  edge  tools,  and 
put  the  hfe  of  your  sister  in  danger.  No  gentleman  held  a 
gun  in  my  day  ;  that  is,  no  gentleman  about  the  court.  My 
Lord  Gosford  had  never  killed  a  bird  in  his  hfe,  or  drove  his 
horse  ;  no  sir,  gentlemen  then  were  not  coachmen.  Peter 
how  old  was  I  before  I  took  the  reins  of  the  chaise,  in 
driving  round  the  estate — the  time  you  broke  your  arm  ?  it 
was—" 

Peter,  who  stood  a  little  behind  his  master,  in  modest  re- 
tirement, and  who  had  only  thought  his  elegant  form  brought 
thither  to  embellish  the  show,  when  called  upon,  advanced  a 
step,  made  a  low  bow,  and  answered  in  his  sharp  key  : 

"  In  the  year  1798,  your  honor,  and  the  38th  of  his  present 
majesty,  and  the  64th  year  of  your  life,  sir,  June  the  12th, 
about  meridian." 

Peter  dropped  back  as  he  finished ;  but  recollecting  him- 
self, regained  his  place  with  a  bow,  as  he  added,  "  new 
style." 

"  How  are  you,  old  style  ?"  cried  John,  with  a  slap  on  the 
back,  that  made  the  steward  jump  again. 

"  Mr.  John  Moseley — young  gentleman" — a  term  Peter 
had  left  off  using  to  the  baronet  within  the  last  ten  years, 
"  did  you  think — to  bring  home — the  goggles  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  John,  gravely,  producing  them  from  his 
pocket.  Most  of  the  party  having  entered  the  parlor,  he  pr.t 
them  carefully  on  the  bald  head  of  the  steward — "There, 
Mr  Peter  Johnson,  you  have  your  property  again,  safe  and 
Bound." 

**  And  Mr.  Denbigh  said  he  felt  much  indebted  to  your 


212  PRECAUTTON. 

consideration  in  sending  them,"  said  Emily,  soothingly,  as  she 
took  them  off  with  her  beautiful  hands. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Emmy,"  said  the  steward,  with  one  of  his  bes' 
bows,  **  that  was — a  noble  act ;  God  bless  him  !"  then  hold 
ing  up  his  finger  significantly,  "the  fourteenth  codicil — to 
master's  will,"  and  Peter  laid  his  finger  alongside  his  nose,  as 
he  nodded  his  head  in  silence. 

"  I  hope  the  thirteenth  contains  the  name  of  honest  Peter 
Johnson,"  said  the  young  lady,  who  felt  herself  uncommonly 
well  pleased  with  the  steward's  conversation. 

"  As  witness,  Miss  Emmy — witness  to  all — but  God  for- 
bid," said  the  steward  with  solemnity,  "  I  should  ever  live  to 
see  the  proving  of  them :  no.  Miss  Emmy,  master  has  done 
for  me  what  he  intended,  while  I  had  youth  to  enjoy  it.  I 
am  rich,  Miss  Emmy — good  three  hundred  a  year."  Emily, 
who  had  seldom  heard  so  long  a  speech  as  the  old  man's 
gratitude  drew  from  him,  expressed  her  pleasure  at  hearing 
it,  and  shaking  him  kindly  by  the  hand,  left  him  for  the 
parlor. 

"Niece,"  said  Mr.  Benfield,  having  scanned  the  party 
closely  with  his  eyes,  "  where  is  Colonel  Denbigh  ?'' 

"  Colonel  Egerton,  you  mean,  sir,"  interrupted  Lady 
Moseley. 

"  No,  my  Lady  Moseley,"  replied  her  uncle,  with  great 
formality,  "  I  mean  Colonel  Denbigh.  I  take  it  he  is  a  colo- 
nel by  this  time,"  looking  expressively  at  the  baronet ;  "  and 
who  is  fitter  to  be  a  colonel  or  a  general,  than  a  man  who  ia 
not  afraid  of  gunpowder  ?" 

*'  Colonels  must  have  been  scarce  in  your  youth,  sir,"  cried 
John,  who  had  rather  a  mischievous  propensity  to  start  the 
old  man  on  his  hobby. 

"No,  jackanapes,  gentlemen  killed  one  another  then,  al- 
though they  did  not  torment  the  innocent  birds :  honor  was 


PRECAUTION.  213 

as  dear  to  a  gentleman  of  George  the  Second's  court,  as  to 
those  of  his  grandson's,  and  honesty  toOj  sirrah — ay,  honesty. 
I  remember  when  we  were  in,  there  was  not  a  man  of  doubt 
ful  integrity  in  the  ministry,  or  on  our  side  even ;  and  then 
again,  when  we  went  out,  the  opposition  benches  were  filled 
with  sterling  characters,  making  a  parliament  that  was  cor- 
rect throughout.  Can  you  show  me  such  a  thing  at  this 
day?" 


214  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

k  FEW  days  after  the  arrival  of  the  Moseleys  at  the  lodge 

John  drove  his  sisters  to  the  httle  village  of  L ,  which  at 

that  time  was  thronged  with  an  unusual  number  of  visiters. 
It  had,  among  other  fashionable  arrangements  for  the  accom- 
modation of  its  guests,  one  of  those  circulators  of  good  and 
evil,  a  public  hbrary.  Books  are,  in  a  great  measure,  the  in- 
struments of  controlling  the  opinions  of  a  nation  like  ours. 
They  are  an  engine,  alike  powerful  to  save  or  to  destroy.  It 
cannot  be  denied,  that  our  libraries  contain  as  many  volumes 
of  the  latter,  as  the  former  description;  for  we  rank  amongst 
the  latter  that  long  catalogue  of  idle  productions,  which,  if 
they  produce  no  other  evil,  lead  to  the  misspending  of  time, 
ottr  own  perhaps  included.  But  we  cannot  refrain  expressing 
our  regret,  that  such  formidable  weapons  in  the  cause  of 
morality,  should  be  suffered  to  be  wielded  by  any  indifferent 
or  mercenary  dealer,  who  undoubtedly  will  consult  rather  the 
pubhc  tastes  than  the  private  good :  the  evil  may  be  reme- 
diless, yet  we  love  to  express  our  sentiments,  though  we 
should  suggest  nothing  new  or  even  profitable.  Into  one  of 
these  haunts  of  the  idle,  then,  John  Moseley  entered  with  a 
lovely  sister  leaning  on  either  arm.  Books  were  the  enter- 
tainers of  Jane,  and  instructors  of  Emily.  Sir  Edward  was 
fond  of  reading  of  a  certain  sort — that  which  required  no 
great  depth  of  thought,  or  labor  of  research  ;  and,  like  most 
others  who  are  averse  to  contention,  and  disposed  to  be  easily 
satisfied,  the  baronet  sometimes  found  he  had  harbored  opi- 
nions on  things  not  exactly  reconcileable  with  the  truth,  or 


PRECAUTION.  215 

even  with  each  other.  It  is  quite  as  dangerous  to  give  up 
your  faculties  to  the  guidance  of  the  author  you  are  perusing, 
as  it  is  unprofitable  to  be  captiously  scrutinizing  every  syl- 
lable he  may  happen  to  advance ;  and  Sir  Edward  was,  if 
anything,  a  little  inclined  to  the  dangerous  propensity.  Un- 
pleasant, Sir  Edward  Moseley  never  was.  Lady  Moseley 
very  seldom  took  a  book  in  her  hand  :  her  opinions  were 
established  to  her  own  satisfaction  on  all  important  points, 
and  on  the  minor  ones,  she  made  it  a  rule  to  coincide  with 
the  popular  feeling.  Jane  had  a  mind  more  active  than  her 
father,  and  more  brilliant  than  her  mother ;  and  if  she  liad 
not  imbibed  injurious  impressions  from  the  unlicensed  and 
indiscriminate  reading  she  practised,  it  was  more  owing  to  the 
fortunate  circumstance,  that  the  baronet's  library  contained 
nothing  extremely  offensive  to  a  pure  taste,  nor  dangerous  to 
good  morals,  than  to  any  precaution  of  her  parents  against 
the  deadly,  the  irretrievable  injury  to  be  sustained  from  un- 
governed  liberty  in  this^  respect  to  a  female  mind.  On  the 
other  hand,  Mrs.  Wilson  had  inculcated  the  necessity  of  re- 
straint, in  selecting  the  books  for  her  perusal,  so  strenuously 
on  her  niece,  that  what  at  first  had  been  the  effects  of  obedi- 
ence and  submission,  had  now  settled  into  taste  and  habit ; 
and  Emily  seldom  opened  a  book,  unless  in  search  of  inform- 
ation ;  or  if  it  were  the  indulgence  of  a  less  commendable 
spirit,  it  was  an  indulgence  chastened  by  a  taste  and  judg- 
ment that  lessened  the  danger,  if  it  did  not  entirely  re- 
i.iove  it. 

The  room  was  filled  with  gentlemen  and  ladies ;  and  while 
John  was  exchanging  his  greetings  with  several  of  the  neigh- 
boring gentry  of  his  acquaintance,  his  sisters  were  running 
nastily  over  a  catalogue  of  the  books  kept  for  circulation,  as 
an  elderly  lady,  of  foreign  accent  and  dress,  entered ;  and 
depositing  a  couple  of  religious  works  on  the  counter,  she 


216  PRECAUTION. 

inquired  for  the  remainder  of  the  set.  The  peculiarity  of  her 
idiom  and  her  proximity  to  the  sisters  caused  them  both  to 
look  up  at  the  moment,  and,  to  the  surprise  of  Jane,  her  sister 
uttered  a  slight  exclamation  of  pleasure.  The  foreigner  was 
attracted  by  the  sound,  and  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  she 
respectfully  curtsied.  Emily,  advancing,  kindly  offered  her 
hand,  and  the  usual  inquiries  after  each  other's  welfare  sue 
ceeded.  To  the  questions  asked  after  the  friend  of  the 
matron  Emily  learnt,  with  some  surprise,^and  no  less  satisfac- 
tion, that  she  resided  in  a  retired  cottage,  about  five  miles 

from  L ,  where  they  had  been  for  the  last  six  months, 

and  where  they  expected  to  remain  for  some  time,  "  until  she 
could  prevail  on  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  to  return  to  Spain ;  a  thing, 
now  there  was  peace,  of  which  she  did  not  despair."  After 
asking  leave  to  call  on  them  in  their  retreat,  and  exchanging 
good  wishes,  the  Spanish  lady  withdrew,  and,  as  Jane  had 
made  her  selection,  was  followed  immediately  by  John 
Moseley  and  his  sisters.  Emily,  in  their  walk  home,  ac- 
quainted her  btother  that  the  companion  of  their  Bath 
incognita  had  been  at  the  library,  and  that  for  the  first  time 
she  had  learnt  that  their  young  acquaintance  was,  or  had 
been,  married,  and  her  name.  John  listened  to  his  sister 
with  the  interest  which  the  beautiful  Spaniard  had  excited  at 
the  time  they  first  met,  and  laughingly  told  her  he  could  not 
beHeve  their  unknown  friend  had  ever  been  a  wife.  To 
satisfy  this  doubt,  and  to  gratify  a  wish  they  both  had  to 
renew  their  acquaintance  with  the  foreigner,  they  agreed  to 
drive  to  the  cottage  the  following  morning,  accompanied  by 
Mrs.  Wilson  and  Jane,  if  she  would  go ;  but  the  next  day  was 

the  one  appointed  by  Egerton  for  his  arrival  at  L ,  and 

Jane,  under  a  pretence  of  writing  letters,  decHned  the 
excursion.  She  had  carefully  examined  the  papers  since  his 
departure;   had  seen  his  name  included  in  the  arrivals  at 


PRECAUTION.  217 

London;  and  at  .a  later  day,  had  read  an  account  of  the 
review  by  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  regiment  to  which 
he  belonged.  He  had  never  written  to  any  of  her  friends ; 
but,  judging  from  her  own  feelings,  she  did  not  in  the  least 
doubt  he  would  be  as  punctual  as  love  could  make  him. 
Mrs.  Wilson  listened  to  her  niece's  account  of  the  unexpected 
nterview  in  the  library  with  pleasure,  and  cheerfully  promised 
to  accompany  them  in  their  morning's  excursion,  as  she  had 
both  a  wish  to  alleviate  sorrow,  and  a  desire  to  better  under- 
stand the  character  of  this  accidental  acquaintance  of  Emily's 

Mr.  Benfield  and  the  baronet  had  a  long  conversation  in 
relation  to  Denbigh's  fortune  the  morning  after  their  arrival; 
and  the  old  man  was  loud  in  his  expression  of  dissatisfaction 
at  the  youngster's  pride.  As  the  baronet,  however,  in  the 
fulness  of  his  affection  and  simplicity,  betrayed  to  his  uncle 
his  expectation  of  a  union  between  Denbigh  and  his  daughter, 
Mr.  Benfield  became  contented  with  this  reward ;  one  fit,  he 
thought,  for  any  services.  On  the  whole,  *'  it  was  best,  as  he 
was  to  marry  Emmy,  he  should  sell  out  of  th6  army ;  and  as 
there  would  be  an  election  soon,  he  would  bring  him  into 
parliament — yes — yes — it  did  a  man  so  much  good  to  sit  one 
term  in  the  parliament  of  this  realm — to  study  human  nature. 
All  his  own  knowledge  in  that  way  was  raised  on  the  founda- 
tions laid  in  the  House."  To  this  Sir  Edward  cordially 
assented,  and  the  gentlemen  separated,  happy  in  their 
arrangements  to  advance  the  welfare  of  two  beings  they  so 
sincerely  loved. 

Although  the  care  and  wisdom  of  Mrs.  Wilson  had  pro- 
hibited the  admission  of  any  romantic  or  enthusiastic 
expectations  of  happiness  into  the  day-dreams  of  her  charge, 
yet  the  buoyancy  of  health,  of  hope,  of  youth,  of  innocence, 
had  elevated  Emily  to  a  height  of  enjoyment  hitherto  unknown 
to  her  usually  placid  and   disciplined  pleasures.     Denbigh 

10 


218  PRECAUTION. 

certainly  mingled  in  most  of  her  thoughts,  both  of  the  past 
and  the  future,  and  she  stood  on  the  threshold  of  that  fan- 
tastic edifice  in  which  Jane  ordinarily  resided.  Emily  was  in 
the  situation  perhaps  the  most  dangerous  to  a  young  female 
Christian :  her  heart,  her  affections,  were  given  to  a  man,  to 
appearance,  every  way  worthy  of  possessing  them,  it  is  true 
but  she  had  admitted  a  lival  in  her  love  to  her  Maker ;  and 
to  keep  those  feelings  distinct,  to  bend  the  passions  in  due 
submission  to  the  more  powerful  considerations  of  endless 
duty,  of  unbounded  gratitude,  is  one  of  the  most  trying 
struggles  of  Christian  fortitude.  We  are  much  more  apt  to 
forget  our  God  in  prosperity  than  adversity.  The  weakness 
of  human  nature  drives  us  to  seek  assistance  in  distress  ;  but 
vanity  and  worldly-mindedness  often  induce  us  to  imagine  we 
control  the  happiness  we  only  enjoy. 

Sir  Edward  and  Lady  Moseley  could  see  nothing  in  the 
prospect  of  the  future  but  lives  of  peace  and  contentment  for 
their  children.  Clara  was  happily  settled,  and  her  sisters 
were  on  the  eve  of  making  connexions  .with  men  of  family, 
condition,  and  certain  character.  What  more  could  be  done 
for  them  ?  They  must,  like  other  people,  take  their  chances 
in  the  lottery  of  life ;  they  could  only  hope  and  pray  for  their 
prosperity,  and  this  they  did  with  great  sincerity.  Not  so 
Mrs.  Wilson :  she  had  guarded  the  invaluable  charge 
intrusted  to  her  keeping  with  too  much  assiduity,  too  keen 
an  interest,  too  just  a  sense  of  the  awful  responsibility  she 
had  undertaken,  to  desert  her  post  at  the  moment  watchful 
ness  was  most  required.  By  a  temperate,  but  firm  and  well- 
chosen  conversation  she  kept  alive  the  sense  of  her  real 
condition  in  her  niece,  and  labored  hard  to  prevent  the 
blandishments  of  life  from  supplanting  the  lively  hope  of 
enjoying  another  existence.  She  endeavored,  by  her  pious 
example,  her  prayers,  and  her  iudicious  allusions,  to  keep  the 


PRECAUTTOX.  219 

passion  of  love  in  the  breast  of  Emily  secondary  to  the  more 
important  object  of  her  creation ;  and,  by  the  aid  of  a  kind 
dnd  Al  might  J  Providence,  her  labors,  though  arduous,  were 
crowned  with  success. 

As  the  family  were  seated  round  the  table  after  dinner,  on 
the  day  of  th'^ir  walk  to  the  library,  John  Moseley,  awakening 
from  a  reverie,  exclaimed  suddenly, 

*'  Which  do  you  think  the  handsomest,  Emily,  Grace  Chat 
^erton  or  Miss  Fitzo^erald  ?" 

Emily  laughed,  as  she  answered,  "  Grace,  certainly ;  do 
you  not  think  so,  brother  ?" 

"  Yes,  on  the  whole ;  but  don't  you  think  Grace  looks  like 
her  mother  at  times  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  she  is  the  image  of  Chatterton." 

"  She  is  very  like  yourself,  Emmy  dear,"  said  Mr.  Benfield, 
who  was  listening  to  their  conversation. 

"  Me,  dear  uncle  ;  I  have  never  heard  it  remarked  before." 

*'  Yes,  yes,  she  is  as  much  like  you  as  she  can  stare.  I 
never  saw  as  great  a  resemblance,  excepting  between  you  and 
Lady  Juliana — Lady  Juliana,  Emmy,  was  a  beauty  in  her 
day  ;  very  like  her  uncle,  old  Admiral  Griffin — you  can't  re- 
member the  admiral — he  lost  an  eye  in  a  battle  with  the 
Dutch,  and  part  of  his  cheek  in  a  frigate,  when  a  young  naan 
fighting  the  Dons.  Oh,  he  was  a  pleasant  old  gentleman ; 
many  a  guinea  has  he  given  me  when  I  was  a  boj  at 
school." 

"  And  he  looked  like  Grace  Chatterton,  uncle,  did  he  V 
a-sked  John,  innocently. 

"  No,  sir,  he  did  not ;  who  said  he  looked  hke  Grace  Chat- 
terton, jackanapes  ?" 

"Why,  I  thought  you  made  it  out,  sir:  but  perhaps  it 
was  the  description  that  deceived  me — his  eye  and  cheek, 
uncle." 


220  PRECAUTION. 

"  Did  Lord  Gosford  leave  children,  uncle  ?"  inquired 
Emily,  throwing  a  look  of  reproach  at  John. 

''  No,  Emmy  dear ;  Lis  only  child,  a  son,  died  at  school. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  grief  of  poor  Lady  Juliana.  She 
postponed  a  visit  to  Bath  three  weeks  on  account  of  it.  A 
gentleman  who  was  paying  his  addresses  to  h«V  at  the  time, 
offered  then,  and  was  refused — indeed,  her  self-denial  raised 
such  an  admiration  of  her  in  the  men,  that  immediately  after 
the  death  of  young  Lord  Dayton,  no  less  than  seven  gentle- 
men offered,  and  were  refused  in  one  week.  I  heard  Lady 
Juliana  say,  that  what  between  lawyers  and  suitors,  she  had 
not  a  moment's  peace." 

"  Lawyers  1"  cried  Sir  Edward :  *'  what  had  she  to  do  with 
lawyers  ?" 

"  Why,  Sir  Edward,  six  thousand  a  year  fell  to  her  by  the 
death  of  her  nephew ;  and  there  were  trustees  and  deeds  to 
be  made  out — poor  young  woman,  she  was  so  affected,  Emmy, 
I  don't  think  she  went  out  for  a  week — all  the  time  at  home 
reading  papere,  and  attending  to  her  important  concerns. 
Oh  !  she  was  a  woman  of  taste ;  her  mourning,  and  liveries, 
and  new  carriage,  were  more  admired  than  those  of  any  one 
about  the  court.  Yes,  yes,  the  title  is  extinct ;  I  know  of 
none  of  the  name  now.  The  Earl  did  not  survive  his  loss 
but  six  years,  and  the  countess  died  broken-hearted,  about  a 
twelvemonth  before  him." 

"  And  Lady  Juliana,  uncle,"  inquired  John,  **  what  became 
of  her,  did  she  marry  ?" 

The  old  man  helped  himself  to  a  glass  of  wine,  and  looked 
)ver  his  shoulder  to  see  if  Peter  was  at  hand.  Peter,  who 
nad  been  originally  butler,  and  had  made  it  a  condition  of 
his  preferment,  that  whenever  there  was  company,  he  should 
be  allowed  to  p'reside  at  the  sideboard,  was  now  at  his  sta- 
tion.    Mr.  Benfield,  seeing  his  old  friend  near  him,  ventured 


PRECAUTION.  221 

to  talk  on  a  subject  he  seldom  trusted  himself  with  in  com- 
pany. 

"  Why,  yes — yes — she  did  marry,  it's  true,  although  she 
did  tell  me  she  intended  to  die  a  maid ;  but — hem — I  sup- 
pose— hem — it  was  compassion  for  the  old  viscount,  who 
often  said  he  could  not  live  without  her;  and  then  it  gav^ 
her  the  power  of  doing  so  much  good,  a  jointure  of  five  thou 
sand  a  year  added  to  her  own  income:  yet — hem— I  do 
confess  I  did  not  think  she  would  have  chosen  such  an  old 
and  infii-m  man — but,  Peter,  give  me  a  glass  of  claret." 
Peter  handed  the  claret,  and  the  old  man  proceeded : — 
"  They  say  he  was  very  cross  to  her,  and  that,  no  doubt,  must 
have  made  her  unhappy,  she  was  so  very  tender-hearted." 

How  much  longer  the  old  gentleman  would  have  continued 
in  this  strain,  it  is  impossible  to  say ;  but  he  was  interrupted 
by  the  opening  of  the  parlor  door,  and  the  sudden  appear- 
ance on  its  threshold  of  Denbigh.  Every  countenance  glowed 
with  pleasure  at  this  unexpected  return  of  their  favorite  ;  and 
but  for  the  prudent  caution  of  Mrs.  Wilson,  in  handing  a 
glass  of  water  to  her  niece,  the  surprise  might  have  proved 
too  much  for  her.  The  salutations  of  Denbigh  were  re- 
turned by  the  different  members  of  the  family  with  a  cordi- 
ahty  that  must  have  told  him  how  much  he  was  valued  by 
all  its  branches  ;  and  after  briefly  informing  them  that  his 
review  was  over,  and  that  he  had  thrown  himself  into  a 
chaise  and  travelled  post  until  he  had  rejoined  them,  he  took 
Lis  seat  by  Mr.  Benfield,  who  received  him  with  a  marked 
preference,  exceeding  that  which  he  had  shown  to  any  man 
who  had  ever  entered  his  doors,  Lord  Gosford  himself  not 
excepted.  Peter  remo  'ed  from  his  station  behind  his  mas- 
ter's chair  to  one  where  he  could  face  the  new  comer ;  and 
after  wiping  his  eyes  until  they  filled  so  rapidly  with  water, 
that  at  last  he  was  noticed  by  the  delighted  John  to  put  on 


222  PRECAUTION. 

the  identical  goggles  which  his  care  had  provided  for  Den- 
bigh in  his  illness.  His  laugh  drew  the  attention  of  the  rest 
to  the  honest  steward,  and  when  Denbigh  wavS  told  this  was 
Mr.  Benfield's  ambassador  to  the  hall,  he  rose  from  his  chair, 
and  taking  the  old  man  by  the  hand,  kindly  thanked  him  for 
his  thoughtful  consideration  for  his  weak  eyes. 

Peter  took  the  offered  hand  in  both  his  own,  and  after  ma 
king  one  or  two  unsuccessful  efforts  to  speak,  ht;  uttered, 
"  Thank  you,  thank  you  ;  may  Heaven  bless  you,"  and  burst 
into  tears.  This  stopped  the  laugh,  and  John  followed  the 
steward  from  the  room,  while  his  master  exclaimed,  wiping 
his  eyes,  "  Kind  and  condescending ;  just  such  another  as  mv 
old  friend,  the  Earl  of  Gosford." 


PRECAUTION.  22a 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 

At  the  appointed  hour,  the  carriage  of  Mrs.  Wilson 
was  ready  to  convey  herself  and  niece  to  the  cottage  of 
Mrs.  Fitzgerald.  John  was  left  behind,  under  the  pretence 
of  keeping  Denbigh  company  in  his  morning  avocations,  but 
really  because  Mrs.  Wilson  doubted  the  propriety  of  his 
becoming  a  visiting  acquaintance  at  the  house,  tenanted  as 
the  cottage  was  represented  to  be.  John  was  too  fond  of 
his  friend  to  make  any  serious  objections,  and  was  satisfied 
for  the  present,  by  sending  his  compliments,  and  requesting 
his  sister  to  ask  permission  for  him  to  call  in  one  of  his 
morning  excursions,  in  order  to  pay  his  personal  respects. 

They  found  the  cottage  a  beautiful  and  genteel,  though  a 
very  small  and  retired  dwelling,  almost  hid  by  the  trees  and 
shrubs  which  surrounded  it,  and  its  mistress  in  its  little 
veranda,  expecting  the  arrival  of  Emily.  Mrs.  Fitzgerald 
was  a  Spaniard,  under  twenty,  of  a  melancholy,  yet  highly 
interesting  countenance  ;  her  manners  were  soft  and  retiring, 
but  evidently  bore  the  impression  of  good  company,  if  not 
of  high  life.  She  was  extremely  pleased  with  this  renewal 
of  attention  on  the  part  of  Emily,  and  expressed  her  gratitude 
to  both  ladies  for  their  kindness  in  seeking  her  out  in  her 
solitude.  She  presented  her  more  matt-only  companion  to 
them,  by  the  name  of  Donna  Lorenza ;  and  as  nothing  but 
good  feeling  prevailed,  and  useless  ceremony  was  banished, 
the  little  party  were  soon  on  terms  of  friendly  intercourse. 
The  young  widow  (for  sucli  her  dress  indicated  her  to  be), 
did  the  honors  of  her  house  with  o-i-Hcet'ul  ease,  and  conduct 


224  .  PREUAUTIOX. 

ed  her  visiters  into  her  little  grounds,  which,  together  witii 
the  cottage,  gave  evident  proofs  of  the  taste  and  elegance  of 
its  occupant.  The  establishment  she  supported  she  repre- 
sented as  very  small ;  two  women  and  an  aged  man  servant, 
with  occasionally  a  laborer  for  her  garden  and  shrubbery. 
They  never  visited ;  it  was  a  resolution  she  had  made  on 
fixing  her  residence  here,  but  if  Mrs.  Wilson  and  Miss 
Moseley  would  forgive  the  rudeness  of  not  returning  their 
call,  nothing  would  give  her  more  satisfaction  than  a  frequent 
renewal  of  their  visits.  Mrs.  Wilson  took  so  deep  an 
interest  in  the  misfortunes  of  this  young  female,  and  was  so 
much  pleased  with  the  modest  resignation  of  her  manner, 
that  it  required  little  persuasion  on  the  part  of  the  recluse  to 
obtain  a  promise  of  soon  repeating  her  visit.  Ejnily 
mentioned  the  request  of  John,  and  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  received 
it  with  a  mournful  smile,  as  she  replied  that  Mr.  Moseley 
had  laid  her  under  such  an  obligation  in  their  first  interview, 
she  could  not  deny  herself  the  pleasure  of  again  thanking 
him  for  it ;  but  she  must  be  excused  if  she  desired  they 
would  limit  their  attendants  to  him,  as  there  was  but  one 
gentleman  in  England  whose  visits  she  admitted,  and  it  was 
seldom  indeed  he  called  ;  he  had  seen  her  but  once  since 
she  had  resided  in  Norfolk. 

After  giving  a  promise  not  to  sufier  any  one  else  to 
accompany  them,  and  promising  an  early  call  again,  our 
ladies  returned  to  Benfield  Lodge  in  season  to  dress  for 
dinner.  On  entering  the  drawing-room,  they  found  the 
elegant  person  of  Colonel  Egerton  leaning  on  the  back  of 
Jane's  chair.  He  had  arrived  during  their  absence,  and 
immediately  sought  the  baronet's  family.  His  reception,  if 
not  as  warm  as  that  given  to  Denbigh,  was  cordial  fnom  all 
but  the  master  of  the  house  ;  and  even  he  was  in  such  spirits 
by  the  company  around  him,  and  the  prospects  of  Emily's 


PRECAUTION.  225 

marriage  (which  he  considered  as  settleaj,  that  he  forced  him- 
self to  an  appearance  of  good  will  he  did  not  feel.  Colonel 
Egerton  was  either  deceived  by  his  manner,  or  too  much  a 
man  of  the  world  to  discover  his  suspicion,  and  everything 
in  consequence  was  very  harmoniously,  if  not  sincerely 
conducted  between  them. 

Lady  Moseley  was  completely  happy.  If  she  had  the 
least  doubts  before,  as  to  the  intentions  of  Egerton,  the/ 
were  now  removed.  His  journey  to  that  unfashionable 
watering-place,  was  owing  to  his  passion  ;  and  however  she 
might  at  times  have  doubted  as  to  Sir  Edgar's  heir, 
Denbigh  she  thought  a  man  of  too  little  consequence  in  the 
world,  to  make  it  possible  he  would  neglect  to  profit  by  his 
situation  m  the  family  of  Sir  Edward  Moseley.  She  was 
satisfied  with  both  connexions.  Mr.  Benfield  had  told  her 
General  Sir  Frederic  Denbigh  was  nearly  allied  to  the  Duke 
of  Derwent,  and  Denbigh  had  said  the  general  was  his 
grandfather.  Wealth,  she  knew  Emily  would  possess  from 
both  her  uncle  and  aunt ;  and  the  services  of  the  gentleman 
had  their  due  weight  upon  the  feelings  of  the  affectionate 
mother.  The  greatest  of  her  maternal  anxieties  was  removed, 
and  she  looked  forward  to  the  peaceful  enjoyment  of  the 
remnant  of  her  days  in  the  bosom  of  her  descendants.  John, 
the  heir  of  a  baronetcy,  and  15,000  pounds  a  year,  might 
suit  himself;  and  Grace  Chatterton,  she  thought,  would 
be  likely  to  prove  the  future  Lady  Moseley.  Sir  Edward, 
without  entering  so  deeply  into  anticipations  of  the  future  as 
his  wife,  experienced  an  equal  degree  of  contentment ;  and 
it  would  have  been  a  difficult  task  to  discover  in  the  island 
a  roof,  under  which  there  resided  at  the  moment  more 
happy  countenances  than  at  Benfield  Lodge ;  for  as  its 
master  had  insisted  on  Denbigh  beconiing  an  inmate,  he 
was  obliged  to  extend  his  hospitality  in  an  equal  degree  to 
10* 


220  rj'.KCAUTiox. 

Colonel  Egerton  :  indeed,  the  subject  had  been  fully  can- 
vassed between  him  and  Peter  the  morning  of  his  arrival, 
and  was  near  being  decided  against  his  admission,  vhen  the 
steward,  who  had  picked  up  all  the  incidents  of  the  arbor 
cene  from  the  servants  (and  of  course  with  many  exaggera- 
tions), mentioned  to  his  master  that  the  colonel  was  very 
active,  and  that  he  even  contrived  to  bring  water  to  revive 
Miss  Emmy,  a  great  distance,  in  the  hat  of  Captain  Jar  vis, 
which  w^as  full  of  holes,  Mr.  John  having  blown  it  off  the 
head  of  the  captain  without  hurting  a  hair,  in  firing  at  a 
woodcock.  This  mollified  the  master  a  little,  and  he  agreed 
to  suspend  his  decision  for  further  observation.  At  dinner, 
the  colonel  happening  to  admire  the  really  handsome  face 
of  Lord  Gosford,  as  delineated  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds, 
which  graced  the  dining-room  of  Benfield  Lodge,  its  master, 
in  a  moment  of  unusal  kindness,  gave  the  invitation  ;  it  was 
politely  accepted,  and  the  colonel  at  once  domesticated. 

The  face  of  John  Moseley  alone,  at  times,  exhibited 
evidences  of  care  and  thought,  and  at  such  moments  it 
might  be  a  subject  of  doubt  whether  he  thought  the  most 
of  Grace  Chatterton  or  her  mother :  if  the  latter,  the  former 
was  sure  to  lose  ground  in  his  estimation  ;  a  serious  misfor- 
tune to  John,  not  to  be  able  to  love  Grace  without  alloy. 
His  letters  from  her  brother  mentioned  his  being  still  at 
Denbigh  castle,  in  Westmoreland,  the  seat  of  his  friend  the 
Duke  of  Derwent ;  and  John  thought  one  or  two  of  his 
encomiums  on  Lady  Harriet  Denbigh,  the  sister  of  his  grace, 
augured  that  the  unkindness  of  Emily  might  in  time  be 
forgotten.  The  dowager  and  her  daughters  were  at  the 
Eeat  of  a  maiden  aunt  in  Yorkshire,  where  as  John  knew  no 
male  aninaal  was  allowed  admittance,  he  was  tolerably  easy 
at  the  disposition  of  things.  Nothing  but  legacy-hunting 
he  knew  would  induce  the  dowager  to  submit  to  such  a 


PRECAUTION.  22*. 

banisliment  from  the  other  sex ;  but  that  was  so  preferabK 
to  husband-hunting  he  was  satisfied.  "  I  wish,"  said  Johi» 
mentally,  as  he  finished  the  perusal  of  his  lettei,  "  mother 
Chatterton  would  get  married  herself,  and  she  might  let 
Kate  and  Grace  manage  for  themselves.  Kate  would  do 
very  well,  I  dare  say,  and  how  would  Grace  make  out  1" 
^ohn  sighed,  and  whistled  for  Dido  and  Rover. 

In  the  manners  of  Colonel  Egerton  there  was  the  same 
general  disposition  to  please,  and  the  same  unremitted  atten- 
tion to  the  wishes  and  amusements  of  Jane.  They  had 
renewed  their  poetical  investigations,  and  Jane  eagerly 
encouraged  a  taste  which  afforded  her  delicacy  some  little 
coloring  foF  the  indulgence  of  an  association  different  from 
the  real  truth,  and  which,  in  her  estimation,  was'  necessary  to 
her  happiness.  Mrs.  Wilson  thought  the  distance  between 
the  two  suitors  for  the  favor  of  her  nieces  was,  if  anything, 
increased  by  their  short  separation,  and  particularly  noticed 
on  the  part  of  the  colonel  an  aversion  to  Denbigh  that  at 
times  painfully  alarmed,  by  exciting  apprehensions  for  the 
future  happiness  of  the  precious  treasure  she  had  prepared 
herself  to  yield  to  his  solicitations,  whenever  .properly  prof- 
fered. In  Ihe  intercourse  between  Emily  and  her  preserver,  * 
as  there  was  nothing  to  condemn,  so  there  was  much  to 
admire.  The  attentions  of  Denbigh  were  pointed,  although 
less  exclusive  than  those  of  the  colonel ;  and  the  aunt  was 
j)l eased  to  observe  that  if  the  manners  of  Egerton  had  more 
of  the  gloss  of  hfe,  those  of  Denbigh  were  certainly  dis- 
iinguished  by  a  more  finished  delicacy  and  propriety.  The 
one  appeared  the  influence  of  custom  and  association,  with  a 
tincture  of  artifice ;  the  other,  benevolence,  with  a  just  per- 
ception of  what  was  due  to  others  and  with  an  air  of  sincerity, 
when  speaking  of  sentiments  and  principles,  that  was  parti- 
ticularly  pleasing  to  the  watchful  widow.    At  times,  however. 


228  PRECAUTION. 

she  could  not  but  observe  an  air  of  restraint,  if  not  of  awk- 
wardness, about  him  that  was  a  little  surprising.  It  was  most 
observable  in  mixed  society,  and  once  or  twice  her  imagina- 
tion pictured  his  sensations  into  something  like  alarm.  These 
unpleasant  interruptions  to  her  admiration  were  soon  forgotten 
in  her  just  appreciation  of  the  more  solid  parts  of  his  charac- 
ter, which  appeared  hterally  to  be  unexceptionable;  and 
when  momentary  uneasiness  would  steal  over  her,  the 
remembrance  of  the  opinion  of  Dr.  Ives,  his  behavior  with 
Jarvis,  his  charity,  and  chiefly  his  devotion  to  her  niece,  would 
not  fail  to  drive  the  disagreeable  thoughts  from  her  mind. 
Emily  herself  moved  about,  the  image  of  joy  and  innocence. 
If  Denbigh  were  near  her,  she  was  happy;  if. absent,  she 
suft'ered  no  uneasiness.  Her  feelings  were  so  ardent,  and 
yet  so  pure,  that  jealousy  had  no  admission.  Perhaps  no 
circumstances  existed  to  excite  this  usual  attendant  of  the 
passion ;  but  as  the  heart  of  Emily  was  more  enchained  than 
her  imagination,  her  aftections  were  not  of  the  restless  nature 
of  ordinary  attachments,  though  more  dangerous  to  her  peace 
of  mind  in  the  event  of  an  unfortunate  issue.  With  Denbigh 
she  never  walked  or  rode  alone.  He  had  never  made  the 
request,  and  her  dehcacy  would  have  shrunk  frem  such  an 
open  manifestation  of  her  preference ;  but  he  read  to  her  and 
her  aunt ;  he  accompanied  them  in  their  little  excursions ; 
and  once  or  twice  John  noticed  that  she  took  the  offered 
hand  of  Denbigh  to  assist  her  over  any  little  impediment  h 
their  course,  instead  of  her  usual  unobtrusive  custom  of 
taking  his  arm  on  such  occasions.  "Well,  Miss  Emily, 
thought  John,  "  you  appear  to  have  chosen  another  favorite, 
on  her  doing  this  three  times  in  succession  in  one  of  their, 
walks.  "  How  strange  it  is  women  will  quit  their  natural 
friends  for  a  face  they  have  hardly  seen."  John  forgot  his 
own — "  There  is  no  danger,  dear  Grace,"  when  his  sist/^r  waa 


TMtnrirriov.  ooo 

almost  dead  with  apprehension.  But  John  loved  Emily  too 
well  to  witness  her  preference  of  another  with  satisfaction, 
even  though  Denbigh  was  the  favorite;  a  feehng  which  soon 
wore  away,  however,  by  dint  of  custom  and  reflection.  Mr. 
Benfield  had  taken  it  into  his  head  that  if  the  wedding  of 
Emily  could  be  solemnized  while  the  family  was  at  the  lodge, 
it  would  render  him  the  happiest  of  men ;  and  how  to  com- 
pass this  object,  was  the  occupation  of  a  whole  mornino-'s 
contemplation.  Happily  for  Emily's  blushes,  the  old  gentle 
man  harbored  the  most  fastidious  notions  of  female  delicacy,' 
and  never  in  conversation  made  the  most  distant  allusion  to 
the  expected  connexion.  He,  therefore,  in  conformity  with 
these  feelings,  could  do  nothing  openly;  all  must  be  the 
effect  of  management ;  and  as  he  thought  Peter  one  of  the 
best  contrivers  in  the  world,  to  his  ingenuity  he  determined 
to  refer  the  arrangement. 

The  bell  rang — "  Send  Johnson  to  me,  David." 

In  a  few  minutes,  the  drab  coat  and  blue  yarn  stockings 
entered  his  dressing-room  with  the  body  of  Mr.  Peter  Johnson 
snugly  cased  within  them. 

"Peter,"  commenced  Mr.  Benfield,  pointing  kindly  to  a 
chair,  which  the  steward  respectfully  declined,  "I  suppose 
you  know  that  Mr.  Denbigh,  the  grandson  of  General  Den- 
bigh, who  was  in  parliament  with  me,  is  about  to  marry  my 
little  Emmy  ?" 

Peter  smiled,  as  he  bowed  an  assent. 

"Now,  Peter,  a  wedding  would,  of  all  things,  make  roe 
most  happy ;  that  is,  to  have  it  here  in  the  lodge.  It  would 
remind  me  so  nuuh  of  the  marriage  of  Lord  Gosford,  and 
the  bridemaids.  1  wish  your  opinion  how  to  bring  it  about 
before  they  leave  us  Sir  Edward  and  Anne  decline  mter- 
fering,  and  Mrs.  Wilson  I  am  afraid  to  speak  to  on  tba 
subject." 


230  PRECAUTION. 

Peter  was  not  a  little  alarmed  by  this  sudden  requisition 
on  his  inventive  faculties,  especially  as  a  lady  was  in  the  case ; 
but,  as  he  prided  himself  on  serving  his  master,  and  loved 
the  hilarity  of  a  wedding  in  his  heart,  he  cogitated  for  some 
time  in  silence,  when,  having  thought  a  preliminary  question 
or  two  necessary,  he  broke  it  with  saying — 

"  Everything,  I  suppose,  master,  is  settled  between  the 
young  people  ?" 

"  Everything,  I  take  it,  Peter." 

"  And  Sir  Edward  and  my  lady  *?" 

"  WilHng ;  perfectly  wiUing." 

"  And  Madam  Wilson,  sir  ?" 

"  Willing,  Peter,  willing." 

*'  And  Mr.  John  and  Miss  Jane  ?" 

*'  All  willing  ;  the  whole  family  is  willing,  to  the  best  of 
my  belief.'* 

"  There  is  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ives  and  Mrs.  Ives,  master  ?" 

"  They  wish  it,  I  know.  Don't  you  think  they  wish  others 
as  happy  as  themselves,  Peter  ?" 

**  No  doubt  they  do,  master.  Well,  then,  as  everybody  is 
willing,  and  the  young  people  agreeable,  the  only  thing  to  be 
done,  sir,  is " 

"  Is  what,  Peter  ?"  exclaimed  his  impatient  master 
observing  him  to  hesitate. 

"  Why,  sir,  to  send  for  the  priest,  I  take  it." 

"  Pshaw !  Peter  Johnson,  I  know  that  mjself,"  replied  the 
dissatisfied  old  man.  "  Cannot  you  help  me  to  a  better 
plan  ?" 

"  Why,  master,"  said  Peter,  "  I  would  have  done  as  well 
for  Miss  Emmy  and  your  honor  as  I  would  have  done  for 
myself.  Now,  sir,  when  I  courted  Patty  Steele,  your  honor, 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and 
sixty-five,  I  should    have    been   married    but  for  one   diffi- 


PRECAUTIOX.  2.11 

culty,  whicli  your  honor  says  is  removed  in  the  case  of  Miss 
Emmy." 

"  What  was  that,  Peter  ?"  asked  his  master,  in  a  tender 
tone. 

*'  She  wasn't  willing,  sir.'* 

"  Very  well,  poor  Peter,"  replied  Mr.  Ben6eld,  mildly 
*'  you  may  go."     And  the  steward,  bowing  low,  withdrew. 

The  similarity  of  their  fortunes  in  love  was  a  strong  link  in 
the  sympathies  which  bound  the  master  and  man  together, 
and  the  former  never  failed  to  be  softened  by  an  allusion  to 
Patty.  The  want  of  tact  in  the  man,  on  the  present  occasion, 
after  much  reflection,  was  attributed  by  his  master  to  the  fact 
that  Peter  had  never  sat  in  parliament. 


232  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Mrs.  Wilson  and  Emily,  in  the  fortnight  they  had  /^en 
at  Benfield  Lodge,  paid  frequent  and  long  visits  to  th«  cot- 
tage: and  each  succeeding  interview  left  a  more  favorable 
impression  of  the  character  of  its  mistress,  and  a  greater  cer- 
tainty that  she  was  unfortunate.  The  latter,  however,  allu- 
ded very  slightly  to  her  situation  or  former  life ;  she  was  a 
Protestant,  to  the  great  surprise  of  Mrs.  Wilson ;  and  one  that 
misery  had  made  nearly  acquainted  with  the  religion  she 
professed.  Their  conversations  chiefly  turned  Ctfi  the  cus- 
toms of  her  own,  as  contrasted  with  those  of  her 
adopted  country,  or  in  a  pleasant  exchange  of  opinions, 
which  the  ladies  possessed  in  complete  unison.  One  morning 
John  had  accompanied  them  and  been  admitted ;  Mrs.  Fitz- 
gerald receiving  him  with  the  frankness  of  an  old  acquaint- 
ance, though  with  the  reserve  of  a  Spanish  lady.  His  visits 
were  permitted  under  the  direction  of  his  aunt,  but  no  others 
of  the  gentlemen  were  included  amongst  her  guests.  Mrs. 
Wilson  had  casually  mentioned,  in  the  absence  of  her  niece, 
the  interposition  of  Denbigh  between  her  and  death;  and 
Mrs.  Fitzgerald  was  so  much  pleased  at  the  noble  conduct  of 
the  gentleman,  as  to  express  a  desire  to  see  him ;  but  th 
impressi<i»ns  of  the  moment  appeared  to  have  died  away,  a 
nothing  more  was  said  by  either  lady  on  the  subject,  and  i 
was  apparently  forgotten.  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  was  found  one 
morning,  weeping  over  a  letter  she  held  in  her  hand,  and  the 
Donna  Lorenza  was  endeavoi'ing  to  console  her.  The  situ- 
-ation   of  tills   latter    lady  was  somewhat  doubtful ;  she  ap 


PRECAUTION.  2'J3 

peared  neither  wholly  a  friend  nor  a  menial.  In  the  manners 
of  the  two  there  was  a  striking  difference;  although  the 
Donna  was  not  vulgar,  she  was  far  from  possessing  the  polish 
of  her  more  juvenile  friend,  and  Mrs.  Wilson  considered  her 
to  be  in  a  station  between  that  of  a  housekeeper  and  that 
of  a  companion.  After  hoping  that  no  unpleasant  intelligence 
occasioned  the  distress  they  witnessed,  the  ladies  were  deli- 
cately about  to  take  their  leave,  when  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  en- 
treated them  to  remain. 

"  Your  kind  attention  to  me,  dear  madam,  and  the  good- 
ness of  Miss  Moseley,  give  you  a  claim  to  know  more  of  the 
unfortunate  being  your  sympathy  has  so  greatly  assisted  to 
attain  her  peace  of  mind.  This  letter  is  from  the  gentleman 
of  whom  you  have  heard  me  speak,  as  once  visiting  me,  and 
though  it  has  struck  me  with  unusual  force,  it  contains  no 
more  than  I  expected  to  hear,  perhaps  no  more  than  I  de- 
serve to  hear." 

"  I  hope  your  friend  has  not  been  unnecessarily  harsh : 
severity  is  not  the  best  way,  always,  of  effecting  repentance, 
and  I  feel  certain  that  you,  my  young  friend,  can  have  been 
guilty  of  no  offence  that  does  not  rather  require  gentle  than 
stern  reproof,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson. 

"  I  thank  you,  dear  madam,  for  your  indulgent  opinion  of 
me,  but  although  I  have  suffered  much,  I  am  willing  to  con- 
fess it  is  a  merited  punishment ;  you  are,  however,  mistaken 
as  to  the  source  of  my  present  sorrow.  Lord  Pendennyss  is 
the  cause  of  grief,  I  believe,  to  no  one,  much  less  to  me." 

"  Lord  Pendennyss  !"  exclaimed  Emily,  in  surprise,  uncon 
sciously  looking  at  her  aunt. 

"  Pendennyss !"  reiterated  Mrs.  Wilson,  with  animation 
"  and  is  he  your  friend,  too  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam ;  to  his  lordship  I  owe  everything — honor 
—comfort— religion — and  even  life  itself." 


Vrji  PRECAUTION". 

Mrs.  Wilson's  cheek  glowed  with  an  unusual  color,  at  this 
iiscovery  of  another  act  of  benevolence  and  virtue,  in  a  young 
aobleman  whose  character  she  had  so  long  admired,  and 
whose  person  she  had  in  vain  wished  to  meet. 

"  You  know  the  earl,  then  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Fitzgerald. 

"  By  reputation,  only,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson  ;  "  but 
that  is  enough  to  convince  me  a  friend  of  his  must  be  a 
worthy  character,  if  anything  were  wanting  to  make  us  your 
friends." 

The  conversation  was  continued  for  some  time,  and  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald  saying  she  did  not  feel  equal  just  then  to  the 
undertaking,  but  the  next  day,  if  they  would  honor  her  with 
another  call,  she  would  make  them  acquainted  with  the  inci- 
dents of  her  life,  and  the  reasons  she  had  for  speaking  in  such 
terms  of  Lord  Pendennyss.  The  promise  to  see  her  was 
cheerfully  made  by  Mrs.  Wilson,  and  her  confidence  accepted ; 
not  from  a  desire  to  gratify  an  idle  curiosity,  but  a  belief  that 
it  was  necessary  to  probe  a  wound  to  cure  it ;  and  a  correct 
opinion,  that  she  would  be  a  better  adviser  for  a  young  and 
lovely  woman,  than  even  Pendennyss  ;  for  the  Donna  Lorenza 
she  could  hardly  consider  in  a  capacity  to  offer  advice,  much 
less  dictation.  They  then  took  their  leave,  and  Emily,  during 
their  ride,  broke  the  silence  with  exclaiming, — 

"  Wherever  we  hear  of  Lord  Pendennyss,  aunt,  we  hear 
of  him  favorably." 

"  A  certain  sign,  my  dear,  he  is  deserving  of  it.  There  is 
hardly  any  man  who  has  not  his  enemies,  and  those  aie 
seldom  just-;  but  we  have  met  with  none  of  the  earl's  yet." 

"  Fifty  thousand  a  year  will  make  many  friends,"  observed 
Emily,  shaking  her  head. 

"  Doubtless,  my  love,  or  as  many  enemies  ;  but  honor,  life, 
and  religion,  my  child,  are  debts  not  owing  to  money — in 
this  c^  ?s^.v,  at  least." 


PRECAUTION.  '235 

To  this  remark  Emily  assented ;  and  after  expressing  her 
own  admiration  of  the  character  of  the  young  nobleman,  she 
dropped  into  a  reverie.  How  many  of  his  virtues  she  identified 
with  the  person  of  Mr.  Denbigh,  it  is  not,  just  now,  our  task 
to  enumerate ;  but  judges  of  human  nature  may  easily  deter- 
mine, and  that  too  without  having  sat  in  the  parliament  of 
this  realm. 

The  mornino^  this  conversation  occurred  at  the  cottasje,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Jarvis,  with  their  daughters,  made  their  unexpected 

appearance  at  L .     The  arrival  of  a  post-chaise  and  four 

with  a  gig,  was  an  event  soon  circulated  through  the  little 
village,  and  the  names  of  its  ownei's  reached  the  lodge  just 
as  Jane  had  allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded  by  the  colonel 
to  take  her  first  walk  with  him  unaccompanied  by  a  third 
person.  Walking  is  much  more  propitious  to  declarations 
than  riding ;  and  whether  it  was  premeditated  on  the  part  of 
the  colonel  or  not,  or  whether  he  was  afraid  that  Mrs.  Jarvis 
or  some  one  else  would  interfere,  he  availed  himself  of  this 
opportunity,  and  had  hardly  got  out  of  hearing  of  her  brother 
and  Denbigh,  before  he  made  Jane  an  explicit  offer  of  his 
hand.  The  surprise  was  so  great,  that  some  time  elapsed 
before  the  distressed  girl  could  reply.  This  she,  however,  at 
length  did,  but  incoherently  :  she  referred  him  to  her  parents, 
as  the  arbiters  of  her  fate,  well  knowing  that  her  wishes  had 
Ions:  been  those  of  her  father  and  mother.  With  this  the 
colonel  was  obliged  to  be  satisfied  for  the  present.  But  their 
walk  had  not  ended,  before  he  gradually  drew  from  the  con- 
fiding girl  an  acknowledgment  that,  should  her  parents  decline 
his  offer,  she  would  be  very  little  less  miserable  than  himself; 
indeed,  the  most  tenacious  lover  might  have  been  content 
with  the  proofs  of  regard  that  Jane,  unused  to  control  her 
feelings,  allowed  hei-self  to  manifest  on  this  occasion.  Egerton 
was  in  raptures ;  a  life  devoted  to  her  would  never  half  repay 


236  PRECAUTION. 

her  condescension;  and  as  their  confidence  increased  with 
their  walk,  Jane  re-entered  the  lodge  with  a  degree  of  happi- 
ness in  her  heart  she  had  never  before  experienced.  The 
much  dreaded  declaration — her  own  distressing  acknowledg- 
ments, were  made,  and  nothing  farther  remained  but  to  Uve 
and  be  happy.  She  flew  into  the  arms  of  her  mother,  and, 
hiding  her  blushes  in  her  bosom,  acquainted  her  with  the 
colonel's  offer  and  her  own  wishes.  Lady  Moseley,  who  was 
prepared  for  such  a  communication,  and  had  rather  wondered 
at  its  tardiness,  kissed  her  daughter  affectionately,  as  she 
promised  to  speak  to  her  father,  and  to  obtain  his  appro- 
bation. 

"  But,"  she  added,  with  a  degree  of  formality  and  caution 
which  had  better  preceded  than  have  followed  the  courtship, 
"  we  must  make  the  usual  inquiries,  my  child,  into  the  fitness 
of  Colonel  Egerton  as  a  husband  for  our  daughter.  Once 
assured  of  that,  you  have  nothing  to  fear." 

The  baronet  was  requested  to  grant  an  audience  to  Colonel 
Egerton,  who  now  appeared  as  determined  to  expedite  things, 
as  he  had  been  dilatory  before.  On  meeting  Sir  Edward,  he 
made  known  his  pretensions  and  hopes.  The  father,  who 
had  been  previously  notified  by  his  wife  of  what  was  forth- 
coming, gave  a  general  answer,  similar  to  the  speech  of  the 
mother,  and  the  colonel  bowed  in  acquiescence. 

In  the  evening,  the  Jarvis  family  favored  the  inhabitants 
of  the  lodge  with  a  visit,  and  Mrs.  Wilson  was  struck  with 
the  singularity  of  their  reception  of  the  colonel.  Miss  Jarvis, 
especially,  was  rude  to  both  him  and  Jane,  and  it  struck  all 
who  witnessed  it  as  a  burst  of  jealous  feeling  for  disappointed 
hopes ;  but  to  no  one,  excepting  Mrs.  Wilson,  did  it  occur 
that  the  conduct  of  the  gentleman  could  be  at  all  imphcated 
in  the  transaction.  Mr.  Benfield  was  happy  to  see  under  his 
roof  again  the  best  of  the  trio  of  Jarvises  he  had  known,  and 


PRECAUTICN.  237 

something  like  sociability  prevailed.     There  was  to  be  a  ball, 

Miss  Jarvis  remarked,  at  L ,  the  following  day,  which 

would  help  to  enliven  the  scene  a  little,  especially  as  there 
were  a  couple  of  frigates  at  anchor,  a  few  miles  off,  and  the 
officers  were  expected  to  join  the  party.  This  intelligence 
had  but  little  effect  on  the  ladies  of  the  Moseley  fiimily ;  yet, 
as  their  uncle  desired  that,  out  of  respect  to  his  neighbors,  if 
invited,  they  would  go,  they  cheerfully  assented.  During  the 
evening,  Mrs.  Wilson  observed  Egerton  in  familiar  conversa- 
tion with  Miss  Jarvis ;  and  as  she  had  been  notified  of  his 
situation  with  respect  to  Jane,  she  determined  to  watch  nar- 
rowly into  the  causes  of  so  singular  a  change  of  deportment 
in  the  young  lady.  Mrs.  Jarvis  retained  her  respect  for  the 
colonel  in  full  force,  and  called  out  to  him  across  the  room,  a 
few  minutes  before  she  departed — 

"  Well,  colonel,  I  am  happy  to  tell  you  I  have  heard  veiy 
lately  from  your  uncle,  Sir  Edgar." 

"  Indeed,  madam  !"  replied  the  colonel,  starting.  "  Ho 
was  well,  I  hope." 

"  Yery  well,  the  day  before  yesterday.     His  neighbor,  old 

Mr.  Holt,  is  a  lodger  in  the  same  house  with  us  at  L ; 

and  as  I  thought  you  would  like  to  hear,  I  made  particular 
inquiries  about  the  baronet."  The  word  baronet  was  pro- 
nounced with  emphasis  and  a  look  of  triumph,  as  if  it  would 
Bay,  you  see  we  have  baronets  as  well  as  you.  As  no  answer 
was  made  by  Egerton,  excepting  an  acknowledging  bow,  the 
merchant  and  his  family  departed. 

"  Well,  John,"  cried  Emily,  with  a  smile,  "  we  have  heard . 
more  good  to-day  of  our  trusty  and  well-beloved  cousin,  the 
Earl  of  Pendennyss." 

"  Indeed  1"  exclaimed  her  brother.  "  You  must  keep 
Emily  for  his  lordship,  positively,  aunt :  she  is  almost  as  great 
an  admirer  of  him  as  yourself." 


233  PRECA  :tiox. 

"  I  apprehend  it  is  necessary  she  should  be  quite  as  mudi 
BO,  to  become  his  wife,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson. 

"  Really,"  said  Emily,  more  gravely,  "  if  all  one  hears  of 
him  be  true,  or  even  half,  it  would  be  no  difficult  task  to 
admire  him."" 

Denbigh  was  standing  leaning  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  in 
ituation  where  he  could  view  the  animated  countenance  of 
Emily  as  she  spoke,  and  Mi-s.  Wilson  noticed  an  uneasiness 
and  a  changing  of  color  in  him  that  appeared  uncommon 
from  so  trifling  a  cause.  Is  it  possible,  she  thought,  Denbigh 
can  harbor  so  mean  a  passion  as  envy  ?  He  walked  away, 
as  if  unwilling  to  hear  more,  and  appeared  much  engrossed 
with  his  own  reflections  for  the  remainder  of  the  evening. 
There  were  moments  of  doubting  which  crossed  the  mind  of 
Mrs.  Wilson  with  a  keenness  of  apprehension  proportionate 
to  her  deep  interest  in  Emily,  with  respect  to  certain  traits  in 
the  character  of  Denbigh  ;  and  this,  what  she  thought  a 
display  of  unworthy  feeling,  was  one  of  them.  In  the  course 
of  the  evening,  the  cards  for  the  expected  ball  arrived,  and 
were  accepted.  As  this  new  arrangement  for  the  morrow 
interfered  with  their  intended  visit  to  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  a 
servant  was  sent  with  a  note  of  explanation  in  the  morning 
and  a  request  that  on  the  following  day  the  promised  com- 
munication mio;ht  be  made.  To  this  arranofement  the  recluse 
assented,  and  Emily  prepared  for  -the  ball  with  a  melancholy 
recollection  of  the  consequences  which  grew  out  of  the  last 
she  had  attended — melancholy  at  the  fate  of  Digby,  and 
pleasure  at  the  principles  manifested  by  Denbigh,  on  the 
occasion.  The  latter,  however,  with  a  smile,  excused  himself 
from  being  of  the  party,  telling  Emily  he  was  so  awkward 
that  he  feared  some  unpleasant  consequences  to  himself  oi 
his  friends  would  arise  from  his  inadvertencies,  did  he  veutun 
again  with  her  into  such  an  assembly. 


vRECAuriON.  239 

Emily  sighed  gently,  as  she  entered  the  carriage  of  her  aunt 
early  in  the  afternoon,  leaving  Denbigh  in  the  door  of  the 
lodge,  and  Eger ton  absent  on  the  execution  of  some  business  j 
the  former  to  amuse  himself  as  he  could  until  the  following 
morning,  and  the  latter  to  join  them  in  the  dance  in  the 
evening. 

The  arrangement  included  an  excui-sion  on  the  water, 
attended  by  the  bands  from  the  frigatas,  a  collation,  and  in 
the  evening  a  ball.  One  of  the  vessels  was  commanded  by 
a  Lord  Henry  Stapleton,  a  fine  young  man,  who,  struck  with 
the  beauty  and  appearance  of  the  sisters,  sought  an  intro- 
duction to  the  baronet's  family,  and  engaged  the  hand  of 
Emily  for  the  first  dance.  His  frank  and  gentlemanlike  de- 
portment was  pleasing  to  his  new  acquaintances ;  the  more 
so,  as  it  was  peculiarly  suited  to  their  situation  at  the  moment. 
Mrs.  Wilson  was  in  unusual  spirits,  and  maintained  an  ani- 
mated conversation  with  the  young  sailor,  in  the  course  of 
which,  he  spoke  of  his  cruising  on  the  coast  of  Spain,  and  by 
accident  he  mentioned  his  having  carried  out  to  that  country, 
upon  one  occasion.  Lord  Pendennyss.  This  Avas  common 
ground  between  them,  and  Lord  Henry  was  as  enthusiastic 
in  his  praises  of  the  earl,  as  Mrs.  Wilson's  partiality  could 
desire.  He  also  knew  Colonel  Eger  ton  slightly,  and  ex- 
pressed his  pleasure,  in  polite  terms,  when  they  met  in  the 
evening  in  the  ball-room,  at  being  able  to  renew  his  acquaint 
ance.  The  evening  passed  off  as  such  evenings  generally  do 
-—in  gaiety,  listlessness,  dancing,  gaping,  and  heartburnings, 
according  to  the  dispositions  and  good  or  ill  fortune  of  the 
several  individuals  who  compose  the  assembly.  Mi-s.  Wilson, 
while  her  nieces  were  dancing,  moved  her  seat  to  be  near  a 
window,  and  found  herself  in  the  vicinity  of  two  elderly  gen- 
tlemen, who  were  commenting  on  the  company.  After 
making,  several  common-place  remarks,  one  of  them  inquired 


240  PRECAUTION. 

of  the  other— "Who  is  that  military  gentleman  amongst  the 
naval  beaux,  HoltV" 

"  That  is  the  hopeful  nephew  of  my  friend  and  neighbor, 
Sir  Edgar  Egerton  ;  he  is  here  dancing,  and  misspending  his 
time  and  money,  when  I  know  Sir  Edgar  gave  him  a  thou- 
sand pounds  six  months  ago,  on  express  condition,  he  should 
not  leave  the  regiment  or  take  a  card  in  his  hand  for 
twelvemonth." 

"  He  plays,  then  ?" 

"  Sadly  ;  he  is,  on  the  whole,  a  very  bad  young  man." 

As  they  changed  their  topic,  Mrs.  Wilson  joined  her  sister, 
dreadfully  shocked  at  this  intimation  of  the  vices  of  a  man  so 
near  an  alliance  with  her  brother's  child.  She  was  thankful 
it  was  not  too  late  to  avert  part  of  the  evil,  and  determined 
to  acquaint  Sir  Edward,  at  once,  with  what  she  had  heard,  in 
order  that  an  investigation  might  establish  the  colonel's  iniu^ 
cence  or  guilu 


PRECAUTION.  241 


CHAPTER  XXV 

They  returned  to  the  lodge  at  an  early  hour,  and  Mrs 
Wilson,  after  meditating  upon  the  course  she  ought  to  take, 
resolved  to  have  a  conversation  with  her  brother  that  evening 
after  supper.  Accordingly,  as  they  were  among  the  last  to 
retire,  she  mentioned  her  wish  to  detain  him,  and  when  left 
by  themselves,  the  baronet  taking  his  seat  by  her  on  a  sofa, 
she  commenced  as  follows,  willing  to  avoid  her  unpleasant 
information  until  the  last  moment. 

"  I  wished  to  say  something  to  you,  brother,  relating  to  my 
charge :  you  have,  no  doubt,  observed  the  attentions  of  Mr. 
Denbigh  to  Emily  ?" 

*'  Certainly,  sister,  and  with  great  pleasure  ;  you  must  not 
suppose  I  wish  to  interfere  with  the  authority  I  have  so  freely 
relinquished  to  you,  Charlotte,  when  I  inquire  if  Emily  favors 
ills  views  or  not  ?" 

"  Neither  Emily  nor  I,  my  dear  brother,  wish  ever  to  ques- 
tion your  right,  not*  only  to  inquire  into,  but  to  control  the 
conduct  of  your  child  ;— she  is  yours,  Edward,  by  a  tie 
nothing  can  break,  and  we  both  love  you  too  much  to  wish  it. 
There  is  nothing  you  may  be  more  certain  of,  than  that,  with- 
out the  approbation  of  her  parents,  Emily  would  accept  of  no 
offer,  however  splendid  or  agreeable  to  her  own  wishes." 

"  Nay,  sister,  I  would  not  wish  unduly  to  influence  my 
child  in  an  affair  of  so  much  importance  to  herself;  but 
my  interest  in  Denbigh  is  little  short  of  that  I  feel  for  my 
daughter." 

"  I  trust,"  continued  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  Emily  is  too  deeply 
11 


242  PRECAUTION. 

impressed  with  her  duty  to  forget  the  impressive  mandate, 
'to  honor  her  father  and  mother:'  yes,  Sir  Edward,  I  am 
mistaken  if  she  would  not  relinquish  the  dearest  object  of  her 
affections,  at  your  request ;  and  at  the  same  time,  I  am  per- 
suaded she  would,  under  no  circumstances,  approach  the  altar 
with  a  man  she  did  not  both  love  and  esteem." 

The  baronet  did  not  appear  exactly  to  understand  his  sis 
ter's  distinction,  as  he  observed,  "  I  am  not  sure  I  rightly 
comprehend  the  difference  you  make,  Charlotte." 

"  Only,  brother,  that  she  would  feel  that  a  promise  made  at 
*he  altar  to  love  a  man  she  felt  averse  to,  or  honor  one  she 
could  not  esteem,  as  a  breach  of  a  duty,  paramount  to  all 
earthly  considerations,"  replied  his  sister;  "but  to  answer 
yom*  question — Denbigh  has  never  offered,  and  when  he  does, 
I  do  not  think  he  will  be  refused." 

**  Refused !"  cried  the  baronet,  "  I  sincerely  hope  not ;  I 
wish,  with  all  my  heart,  they  were  married  already." 

"  Emily  is  very  young,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  and  need  not 
hurry :  I  was  in  hopes  she  would  remain  single  a  few  years 
longer." 

**  Well,"  said  the  baronet,  "  you  and  Lady  Moseley,  sister, 
have  different  notions  on  the  subject  of  marrying  the  girls. " 

Mrs.  Wilson  replied,  with  a  good-hu-mored  smile,  "you 
have  made  Anne  so  good  a  husband,  Ned,  that  she  forgets 
there  are  any  bad  ones  in  the  world ;  my  greatest  anxiety  is, 
that  the  husband  of  my  niece  may  be  a  Christian ;  indeed,  I 
know  not  how  I  can  reconcile  it  to  my  conscience,  as  a  Chris- 
tian myself,  to  omit  this  important  qualification." 

"  I  am  sure,  Charlotte,  both  Denbigh  and  Egerton  appear 
to  have  a  great  respect  for  religion ;  they  are  punctual  ai 
church,  and  very  attentive  to  the  service :"  Mrs.  WilsoD 
smiled  as  he  proceeded,  "  but  religion  may  come  after  map 
riags,  you  know." 


PRECAUTION.  243 

"  Yes,  brother,  and  I  know  it  may  not  come  at  all ;  no 
really  pious  woman  can  be  happy,  without  her  husband  is  in 
what  she  deems  the  road  to  future  happiness  himself ;  and  it 
IS  idle — it  is  worse — it  is  almost  impious  to  marry  with  a  view 
to  reform  a  husband  :  indeed,  she  greatly  endangers  her  own 
safety  thereby ;  for  few  of  us,  I  believe,  T^ut  find  the  tempta- 
tion to  err  as  much  as  we  can  contend  with,  without  calling 
in  the  aid  of  example  against  us,  in  an  object  we  love  ;  indeed 
it  appears  to  me,  the  life  of  such  a  woman  must  be  a  struggle 
between  conflicting  duties." 

"  Why,"  said  the  baronet,  "  if  your  plan  were  generally 
adopted,  I  am  afraid  it  would  give  a  deadly  blow  to  matri- 
mony." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  generals,  brother,  I  am  acting 
for  individual  happiness,  and  discharging  individual  duties : 
at  the  same  time  I  cannot  agree  with  you  in  its  efiects  on  the 
community.  I  think  no  man  who  dispassionately  examines 
the  subject,  will  be  other  than  a  Christian ;  and  rather  than 
remain  bachelors,  they  would  take  even  that  trouble ;  if  the 
strife  in  our  sex  were  less  for  a  husband,  wives  would  increase 
in  value." 

"  But  how  is  it,  Charlotte,"  said  the  baronet,  pleasantly, 
"  your  sex  do  not  use  your  power  and  reform  the  age  ?" 

"  The  work  of  reformation,  Sir  Edward,"  replied  .his  sister, 
gravely,  "is  an  arduous  one  indeed,  and  I  despair  of  seeing  it 
general,  in  my  day ;  but  much,  very  much,  might  be  done 
towards  it,  if  those  who  have  the  guidance  of  youth  would- 
take  that  trouble  with  their  pupils  that  good  faith  requires  of 
them,  to  discharge  the  minor  duties  of  hfe." 

"  Women  ought  to  marry,"  observed  the  baronet,  musing, 

*'  Marriage  is  certainly  the  natural  and  most  desirable  state 
for  a  woman,"  but  how  few  are  there  who,  having  entered  it, 
know  how  to  discharge  its  duties ;  more  particularly  those  of 


244  PRECAUTION. 

a  mother !  On  the  subject  of  marrying  our  daughters,  for 
instance,  instead  of  quahfying  them  to  make  a  proper  choice, 
they  are  generally  left  to  pick  up  such  principles  and  opinions 
as  they  may  come  at,  as  it  were  by  chance.  It  is  true,  if  the 
parent  be  a  Chiistian  in  name,  certain  of  the  externals  of  reli- 
gion are  observed  ;  but  what  are  these,  if  not  enforced  by  a 
consistent  example  in  the  instructor  ?" 

"  Useful  precepts  are  seldom  lost,  I  believe,  sister,"  said 
Sir  Edward,  with  confidence. 

"  Always  useful,  my  dear  brother ;  but  young  people  are 
more  observant  than  we  are  apt  to  imagine,  and  are  wonder- 
fully ingenious  in  devising  excuses  to  themselves  for  their 
conduct.  I  have  often  heard  it  offered  as  an  apology,  that 
father  or  mother  knew  it,  or  perhaps  did  it,  and  therefore  it 
could  not  be  wrong :  association  is  all-important  to  a  child." 

"  I  believe  no  family  of  consequence  admits  of  improper 
associates  within  my  knowledge,"  said  the  baronet. 

Mrs.  Wilson  smiled  as  she  answered,  "  I  am  sure  I  hope 
not,  Edward ;  but  are  the  qualifications  we  require  in  com- 
panions for  our  daughters,  always  such  as  are  most  recon- 
cileable  with  our  good  sense  or  our  consciences ;  a  single  com- 
munication with  an  objectionable  character  is  a  precedent,  if 
known  and  unobserved,  which  will  be  offered  to  excuse 
acquaintances  with  worse  persons :  with  the  other  sex, 
especially,  their  acquaintance  should  be  very  guarded  and 
select." 

"  You  would  make  many  old  maids,  sister." 

"  I  doubt  it  greatly,  brother ;  it  would  rather  bring  female 
ociety  in  demand.  I  often  regret  that  selfishness,  cupidity, 
and  the  kind  of  strife  which  prevails  in  our  sex,  on  the  road 
to  matrimony,  have  brought  celibacy  into  disrepute.  For  my 
part,  I  never  see  an  old  maid,  but  I  am  willing  to  think  she 
is  so  from  choice  or  principle,  and  although  not  in  her  proper 


PRECAUTION.  245 

place,  serviceable,  by  keeping  alive  feelings  necessary  to 
exist,  that  marriages  may  not  become  cui'ses  instead  of 
blessings." 

'*A  kind  of  Eddystone,  to  prevent  matrimonial  ship- 
wrecks," said  the  brother,  gayly. 

"  Their  lot  may  be  solitary,  baronet,  and  in  some  measure 
cheerless,  but  infinitely  preferable  to  a  marriage  that  may 
lead  them  astray  from  their  duties,  or  give  birth  to  a  family 
which  are  to  be  turned  on  the  world — without  any  religion 
but  form — without  any  morals  but  truisms — or  without  even 
a  conscience  which  has  not  been  seared  by  indulgence.  I 
hope  that  Anne,  in  the  performance  of  her  system,  will  have 
no  cause  to  regret  its  failure."    - 

**  Clara  chose  for  herself,  and  has  done  well,  Charlotte ; 
and  so,  I  doubt  not,  will  Jane  and-  Emily :  and  I  confess  I 
think  their  mother  is  right." 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  Clara  has  done  well, 
though  under  circumstances  of  but  Uttle  risk  ;  she  might  have 
jumped  into  your  fish-pond,  and  escaped  with  life,  but  the 
chances  are  she  would  drown  :  nor  do  I  dispute  the  right  of 
the  girls  to  choose  for  themselves  ;  but  I  say  the  rights  extend 
to  requiring  us  to  qualify  them  to  make  their  choice.  I  am 
sorry,  Edward,  to  be  the  instigator  of  doubts  in  your  breast 
of  the  ^yorth  of  any  one,  especially  as  it  may  give  you  pain." 
Here  Mrs.  Wilson  took  her  brother  affectionately  by  the  hand, 
and  communicated  what  she  had  overheard  that  evening. 
Although  the  impressions  of  the  baronet  were  not  as  vivid,  oi 
as  deep  as  those  of  his  sister,  his  parental  love  was  too  great 
not  to  make  him  extremely  uneasy  under  the  intelligence 
and  after  thanking  her  for  her  attention  to  his  children's  wel- 
fare, he  kissed  her,  and  withdrew.  In  passing  to  his  own 
room,  he  met  Egerton,  that  moment  returned  from  escorting 
the  Jarvis  ladies  to  their  lodgings ;  a  task  he  had  undertaken 


246  PRECAUTION. 

at  the  request  of  Jane,  as  they  were  without  any  male  attend- 
ant. Sir  Edward's  heart  was  too  full  not  to  seek  immediate 
relief,  and  as  he  had  strong  hopes  of  the  innocence  of  the 
colonel,  though  he  could  give  no  reason  for  his  expectation, 
he  returned  with  him  to  the  parlor,  and  in  a  few  words 
acquainted  him  with  the  slanders  which  had  been  circulated 
at  his  expense ;  begging  him  by  all  means  to  disprove  them 
as  soon  as  possible.  The  colonel  was  struck  with  the  cir- 
cumstance at  first,  but  assured  Sir  Edward,  it  was  entirely 
untrue.  He  nevjer  played,  as  he  might  have  noticed,  and 
that  Mr.  Holt  was  an  ancient  enemy  of  his.  He  would  in 
the  morning  take  measures  to  convince  Sir  Edward,  that  he 
stood  hioher  in  the  estimation  of  his  uncle,  than  Mr.  Holt  had 
thought  proper  to  state.  Much  relieved  by  this  explanation, 
the  bai-onet,  forgetting  that  this  heavy  charge  removed,  he 
only  stood  where  he  did  before  he  took  time  for  his  inquiries, 
assured  him,  that  if  he  could  convince  him,  or  rather  his  sister, 
he  did  not  gamble,  he  would  receive  him  as  a  son-in-law 
with  pleasure.     The  gentlemen  shook  hands  and  parted. 

Denbigh  had  retired  to  his  room  early,  telling  Mr.  Ben- 
field  he  did  not  feel  well,  and  thus  missed  the  party  at 
supper  ;  and  by  twelve,  silence  prevailed  in  the  house. 

As  usual  after  a  previous  day  of  pleasure,  the  party  were 
late  in  assenibling  on  the  following,  yet  Denbigh  was  the 
last  who  made  his  appearance.  Mrs.  Wilson  thought  he 
threw  a  look  round  the  room  as  he  entered,  which  prevented 
his  making  his  salutations  in  his  usual  easy  and  polished 
manner.  In  a  few  minutes,  however,  his  awkwardness  was 
removed,  and  they  took  their  seats  at  the  table.  At  that 
moment  the  door  of  the  room  was  thrown  hastily  open,  and 
Mr.  Jarvis  entered  abruptly,  and  with  a  look  bordering  on 
wildness  in  his  eye — "  Is  she  not  here  ?"  exclaimed  the 
merchant  scanning  the  company  closely. 


'  PRECAITTTOK.  2-17 

"  Who  ?"  inquired  all  in  a  breath. 

"  Polly — my  daughter — my  child,"  said  the  merchant, 
mdeavoring  to  control  his  feelings ;  "  did  she  not  come  here 
this  morning  with  Colonel  Egerton  ?" 

He  was  answered  in  the  negative,  and  he  briefly  explained 
the  cause  of  his  anxiety.  The  colonel  had  called  very  early, 
and  sent  her  maid  up  to  his  daughter  who  rose  immediately. 
Tliey  had  quitted  the  house  together,  leaving  word  the  Miss 
Moseleys  had  sent  for  the  young  lady  to  breakfast,  for  some 
particular  reason.  Such  was  the  latitude  allowed  by  his 
wife,  that  nothing  was  suspected  until  one  of  the  servants  of 
the  house  said  he  had  seen  Colonel  Egerton  and  a  lady 
drive  out  of  the  village  that  morning  in  a  post-chaise  and 
four. 

Then  the  old  gentleman  first  took  the  alarm,  and  he 
proceeded  instantly  to  the  lodge  in  quest  of  his  daughter. 
Of  the  elopement  there  now  remained  no  doubt,  and  an  exam- 
ination into  the  state  of  the  colonel's  room,  who,  it  had  been 
thought,  was  not  yet  risen,  gave  assurance  of  it.  Here  was 
at  once  sad  confirmation  that  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Holt  was  a 
just  one.  Although  every  heart  felt  for  Jane  during  this 
dreadful  explanation,  no  eye  was  turned  on  her  excepting 
the  stolen  and  anxious  glances  of  her  sister ;  but  when  all 
was  confirmed,  and  nothing  remained  but  to  reflect  or  act 
upon  the  circumstances,  she  naturally  engrossed  the  whole 
attention  of  her  fond  parents.  Jane  had  listened  in  indig- 
nation to  the  commencement  of  the  narrative  of  Mr.  Jarvis, 
and  so  firmly  was  Egerton  enshrined  in  purity  within  her 
imagination,  that  not  until  it  was  ascert.*med  that  both  his 
servant  and  clothes  were  missing,  would  she  admit  a 
thought  injurious  to  his  truth.  Then  indeed  the  feelings  of 
Mr.  Jarvis,  his  plain  statement  corroborated  by  this  testimony, 
Btruck  her  at  once  as  true ;  and  as  she  rose  to  leave  the 


248  PRECAUTION. 

room,  she  fell  senseless  into  the  arms  of  Emily  who  observ- 
ing her  movement  and  loss  of  color  had  flown  to  her  assist- 
ance. Denbigh  had  drawn  the  merchant  out  in  vain  eflforts 
to  appease  him,  and  happily  no  one  witnessed  this  effect  of 
Jane's  passion  but  her  nearest  relatives.  She  was  im- 
mediately removed  to  her  own  room,  and  in  a  short  time 
was  in  bed  with  a  burning  fever.  The  bursts  of  her  grief 
were  uncontrolled  and  violent.  At  times  she  reproacheo. 
herself — her  friends — Egerton  ;  in  short,  she  was  guilty  of 
all  the  inconsistent  sensations  that  disappointed  hopes, 
accompanied  by  the  consciousness  of  weakness  on  our  part 
seldom  fail  to  give  rise  to  ;  the  presence  of  her  fiiends  was 
irksome  to  her,  and  it  was  only  to  the  soft  and  insinuating 
blandishments  of  Emily's  love  that  she  would  at  all  yield. 
Perseverance  and  affection  at  length  prevailed,  and  as  Emily 
took  the  opportunity  of  some  refreshments  to  infuse  a  strong 
soporific,  Jane  lost  her  consciousness  of  misery  in  a  tem- 
porary repose.  In  the  mean  time  a  more  searching  inquiry 
had  been  able  to  trace  out  the  manner  and  direction  of  the 
journey  of  the  fugitives. 

It  appeared  the  colonel  left  the  lodge  immediately  after 
his  conversation  with  Sir  Edward  ;  he  slept  at  a  tavern,  and 
caused  his  servant  to  remove  his  baggage  at  day-light ; 
here  he  had  ordered  a  chaise  and  horses,  and  then  proceed- 
ed, as  mentioned,  to  the  lodgings  of  Mr.  Jarvis.  What 
arguments  he  used  with  Miss  Jarvis  to  urge  her  to  so  sudden 
a  flight,  remained  a  secret ;  but  from  the  remarks  of  Mrs. 
Jarvis  and  Miss  Sarah,  there  was  reason  to  believe  that  he 
had  induced  them  to  think  from  the  commencement,  that 
his  intentions  were  single,  and  Mary  Jarvis  their  object. 
How  he  contrived  to  gloss  over  his  attentions  to  Jane  in 
Buch  a  manner  as  to  deceive  those  ladies,  caused  no  little 
surprise ;   but   it   was  obvious  it  had  been  done,  and  the 


PRECAUTION.  249 

Moseleys  were  not  without  hopes  his  situation  with  Jane 
would  not  make  the  noise  in  the  world  such  occurrences 
seldom  fail  to  excite.  In  the  afternoon  a  letter  was  handed 
to  Mr.  Jarvis,  and  by  him  immediately  communicated  to  the 
baronet  and  Denbigh,  both  of  whom  he  considered  as  among 
his  best  friends.  It  was  from  Egerton,  and  written  in  a 
respectful  manner :  he  apologized  for  his  elopement,  and 
excused  it  on  the  ground  of  a  wish  to  avoid  the  delay  of  a 
license  or  the  publishing  of  bans,  as  he  was  in  hourly  expecta- 
tion of  a  summons  to  his  regiment,  and  contained  many 
promises  of  making  an  attentive  husband,  and  an  affection- 
ate son.  The  fugitives  were  on  the  road  to  Scotland, 
whence  they  intended  immediately  to  return  to  London  and 
to  wait  the  commands  of  their  parents.  The  baronet  in  a 
voice  trembling  with  emotion  at  the  suflferings  of  his  own 
child,  congratulated  the  merchant  that  things  were  no  worse  ; 
while  Denbigh  curled  his  lips  as  he  read  the  epistle,  and 
thought  settlements  were  a  greater  inconvenience  than  the 
bans — for  it  was  a  well  known  fact,  a  maiden  aunt  had  left 
the  Janrises  twenty  thousand  pounds  between  them. 

11* 


2iA) 


PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTEE  XXYI. 

Although  the  affections  of  Jane  had  sustained  a  heaty 
blow,  her  pride  had  received  a  greater,  and  no  pei-suasions 
of  her  mother  or  sister  could  induce  her  to  leave  her  room. 
She  talked  little,  but  once  or  twice  she  yielded  to  the  affec- 
tionate attentions  of  Emily,  and  poured  out  her  sorrows  into 
the  bosom  of  her  sister.  At  such  moments  she  would  declare 
her  intention  of  never  appearing  in  the  world  again.  One  of 
these  paroxysms  of  sorrow  was  witnessed  by  her  mother, 
and,  for  the  first  time,  self-reproach  mingled  in  the  grief  of 
the  matron.  Had  she  trusted  less  to  appearances  and  to  the 
opinions  of  indifferent  and  ill-judging  acquaintances,  her 
daughter  might  have  been  apprized  in  season  of  the  charac- 
ter of  the  man  who  had  stolen  her  affections.  To  a  direct 
exhibition  of  misery  Lady  Moseley  was  always  sensible,  and, 
for  the  moment,  she  became  alive  to  its  causes  and  conse- 
quences ;  but  a  timely  and  judicious  safeguard  against  future 
moral  evils  was  a  forecast  neither  her  inactivity  of  mind  nor 
abihties  were  equal  to. 

We  shall  leave  Jane  to  brood  over  her  lover's  misconduct, 
while  we  regret  she  is  without  the  consolation  alone  able  to 


PRECAUTIOK.  25 1 

bear  her  up  against  the  misfortunes  of  life,  and  return  to  tha 
other  personages  of  our  history. 

The  visit  to  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  had  been  postponed  in  con- 
sequence of  Jane's  indisposition ;  but  a  week  after  the 
colonel's  departure,  Mrs.  Wilson  thought,  as  Jane  had  con- 
sented to  leave  her  room,  and  Emily  really  began  to  look 
pale  from  her  confinement  by  the  side  of  a  sick  bed,  she 
"would  redeem  the  pledge  she  had  given  the  recluse  on  the 
following  morning.  They  found  the  ladies  at  the  cottage 
happy  to  see  them,  and  anxious  to  hear  of  the  health  of  Jane, 
of  whose  illness  they  had  been  informed  by  note.  After 
offering  her  guests  some  refreshments,  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  who 
appeared  laboring  under  a  greater  melancholy  than  usual, 
proceeded  to  make  them  acquainted  with  the  incidents  of  her 
hfe. 

The  daughter  of  an  English  merchant  at  Lisbon  had  fled 
from  the  house  of  her  father  to  the  protection  of  an  Irish 
officer  in  the  service  of  his  Catholic  Majesty  :  they  were 
united,  and  the  colonel  immediately  took  his  bride  to  Madrid. 
The  offspring  of  this  union  were  a  son  and  daughter.  The 
former,  at  an  early  age,  had  entered  into  the  service  of  his 
king,  and  had,  as  usual,  been  bred  in  the  faith  of  his  ances- 
tors ;  but  the  Senora  McCarthy  had  been  educated,  and  yet 
remained  a  Protestant,  and,  contrary  to  her  faith  to  her  hus- 
band, secretly  instructed  her  daughter  in  the  same  belief. 
At  the  age  of  seventeen,  a  principal  grandee  of  the  court  of 
Charles  sought  the  hand  of  the  general's  child.  The  Conde 
d'Alzada  was  a  match  not  to  be  refused,  and  they  were 
united  in  the  heartless  and  formal  manner  in  which  marriages 
are  too  often  entered  into,  in  countries  where  the  customs  of 
society  prevent  an  intercourse  between  the  sexes.  The  Conde 
never  possessed  the  affections  of  his  wife.  Of  a,  stern  anc^ 
unyielding  disposition,  his  harsllnes^^  rtipellecl  her  love  j    and 


252  PRECAUTION. 

as  slie  naturally  turned  her  eyes  to  the  home  of  lier  child- 
hood, she  cherished  all  those  peculiar  sentiments  she  had 
imbibed  from  her  mother.  Thus,  although  she  appeared  to 
the  world  a  Catholic,  she  liyed  in  secret  a  Protestant.  Her 
parents  had  always  used  the  English  language  in  their  family, 
and  she  spoke  it  as  fluently,  as  the  Spanish.  To  encourage 
her  recollections  of  this  strong  feature,  which  distinguished 
the  house  of  her  father  from  the  others  she  entered,  she 
perused  closely  and  constantly  those  books  which  the  death 
of  her  mother  placed  at  her  disposal.  These  were  princi- 
pally Protestant  works  on  religious  subjects,  and  the  countess 
became  a  strong  sectarian,  without  becoming  a  Christian. 
As  she  was  compelled  to  use  the  same  books  in  teaching  her 
only  child,  the  Donna  Julia,  English,  the  consequences  of  the 
original  false  step  of  her  grandmother  were  perpetuated  in 
the  person  of  this  young  lady.  In  learning  English,  she  also 
learned  to  secede  from  the  faith  of  her  father,  and  entailed 
upon  herself  a  life  of  either  persecution  or  hypocrisy.  The 
countess  was  guilty  of  the  unpardonable  error  of  complaining 
to  their  child  of  the  treatment  she  received  from  her  husband  ; 
and  as  these  conversations  were  held  in  English,  and  were 
consecrated  by  the  tears  of  the  mother,  they  made  an  indelible 
impression  on  the  youthful  mind  of  Julia,  who  grew  up  with 
the  conviction  that  next  to  being  a  Catholic  herself,  the 
greatest  evil  of  life  was  to  be  the  wife  of  one. 

On  her  attaining  her  fifteenth  year,  she  had  the  misfortune 
(if  it  could  be  termed  one)  to  lose  her  mother,  and  within  the 
year  her  father  presented  to  her  a  nobleman  of  the  vicinity 
as  her  future  husband.  How  long  the  religious  faith  of  Julia 
would  have  endured,  unsupported  by  example  in  others,  and 
assailed  by  the  passions  soliciting  in  behalf  of  a  young  and 
handsome  cavalier,  it  might  be  difficult  to  pronounce ;  but  as 
her  suitor  was  neither  very  young,  and  the  reverse  of  ven 


PRECAUTION". 


handsome,  it  is  certain  the  more  he  wooed,  the  more  con- 
firmed she  became  in  her  heresy,  until,  in  a  moment  of 
desperation,  and  as  an  only  refuge  against  his  solicitations, 
she  candidly  avowed  her  creed.  The  anger  of  her  father  was 
violent  and  lasting :  she  was  doomed  to  a  convent,  as  both  a 
penance  for  her  sins  and  a  means  of  reformation.  Physical 
resistance  was  not  in  h^r  power,  but  mentally  she  determined 
never  to  yield.  Her  body  was  immured,  but  her  mind  con- 
tinued unshaken  and  rather  more  settled  in  her  belief,  by  the 
aid  of  those  passions  which  had  been  excited  by  injudicious 
harshness.  For  two  years  she  continued  in  her  novitiate, 
obstinately  refusing  to  take  the  vows  of  the  order,  and  at  the 
end  of  that  period  the  situation  of  her  country  had  called  her 
father  and  uncle  to  the  field  as  defenders  of  the  rights  of 
their  lawful  prince.  Perhaps  to  this  it  was  owing  that 
harsher  measures  were  not  adopted  in  her  case. 

The  war  now  raged  around  them  in  its  greatest  horrors, 
until  at  length  a  general  battle  was  fought  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  the  dormitories  of  the  peaceful  nuns  were  crowded 
with  wounded  British  officers.  Amongst  others  of  his  nation 
was  a  Major  Fitzgerald,  a  young  man  of  strikingly  handsome 
countenance  and  pleasant  manners.  Chance  threw  him  under 
the  more  immediate  charge  of  Julia  :  his  recovery  was  slow, 
and  for  a  time  doubtful,  and  as  much  owing  to  good  nursing 
as  science.  The  major  was  grateful,  and  Julia  unhappy  as 
,she  was  beautiful.  That  love  should  be  the  offspring  of  this 
association,  will  excite  no  surprise.  A  brigade  of  British 
encamping  in  the  vicinity  of  the  convent,  the  young  couple 
sought  its  protection  from  Spanish  vengeance  and  Ilomish 
cruelty.  They  were  married  by  the  chaplain  of  the  brigade, 
and  for  a  month  they  were  happy. 

As  Napoleon  was  daily  expected  in  person  at  the  seat  of 
war,  his  generals  were  alive  to  their  own  interests,  if  not  to 


254  PRECAUTION. 

that  of  their  master.  The  body  of  troops  in  which  Fitzgerald 
had  sought  a  refuge,  being  an  advanced  party  of  the  main 
army,  were  surprised  and  defeated  with  loss.  After  doing 
his  duty  as  a  soldier  at  his  post,  the  major,  in  endeavoring  to 
secure  the  retreat  of  Julia,  was  intercepted,  and  they  both  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  They  were  kindly  treated,  and 
allowed  every  indulgence  their  situation  admitted,  until  a  small 
escort  of  prisoners  was  sent  to  the  frontiers ;  in  this  they 
were  included,  and  had  proceeded  to  the  neighborhood  of 
she  Pyrenees,  when,  in  their  turn,  the  French  were  assailed 
suddenly,  and  entirely  routed  ;  and  the  captive  Spaniards,  of 
which  the  party,  with  the  exception  of  our  young  couple, 
consisted,  released.  As  the  French  guard  made  a  resistance 
until  overpowered  by  numbers,  an  unfortunate  ball  struck 
Major  Fitzgerald  to  the  earth — he  survived  but  an  hour,  and 
died  where  he  fell,  on  the  open  field.  An  English  officer,  the 
last  of  his  retiring  countrymen,  was  attracted  by  the  sight  of 
a  woman  weeping  over  the  body  of  a  fallen  man,  and  ap- 
proached them.  In  a  few  words  Fitzgerald  explained  his 
situation  to  this  gentleman,  and  exacted  a  pledge  from  him 
to  guard  his  Julia,  in  safety,  to  his  mother  in  England. 

The  stranger  promised  everything  the  dying  husband 
required,  and  by  the  time  death  had  closed  the  eyes  of  Fitz- 
gerald, he  had  procured  from  some  peasants  a  rude  convey- 
ance, into  which  the  body,  with  its  almost  equally  h£eless 
widow,  were  placed.  The  party  which  intercepted  the  con- 
voy of  prisoners,  had  been  out  from  the  British  camp  on  other 
duty,  but  its  commander  hearing  of  the  escort,  had  pushed 
rapidly  into  a  country  covered  by  the  enemy  to  effect  their 
rescue ;  and  his  service  done,  he  was  compelled  to  make  a 
hasty  retreat  to  ensure  his  own  security.  To  this  was  owing 
the  indifference,  which  left  the  major  to  the  care  of  the  Spa- 
nish peasantry  who  had  gathered  to  the  spot,  and  the  retreat- 


PRECAUTION.  255 

jng  troops  bad  got  several  miles  on  their  return,  before  tbe 
widow  and  ber  protector  commenced  their  journey.  It  was 
impossible  to  overtake  them,  and  tbe  inhabitants  acquainting 
the  gentleman  that  a  body  of  French  dragoons  were  already 
harassing  their  rear,  he  was  compelled  to  seek  another  route 
to  the  camp.  This,  with  some  trouble  and  no  little  danger, 
he  at  last  effected ;  and  the  day  following  the  skirmish,  Julia 
found  herself  lodged  in  a  retired  Spanish  dwelling,  several 
miles  within  the  advanced  posts  of  the  British  army.  The 
body  of  her  husband  was  respectfully  interred,  and  Julia  was 
left  to  mourn  her  irretrievable  loss,  uninterrupted  by  anything 
but  by  the  hasty  visits  of  the  officer  in  whose  care  she  had 
been  left — visits  which  he  stole  from  his  more  important 
duties  as  a  soldier. 

A  month  ghded  by  in  this  melancholy  manner,  leaving  to 
Mi-s.  Fitzgerald  the  only  consolation  she  would  receive — her 
incessant  visits  to  the  grave  of  her  husband.  The  calls  of  her 
protector,  however,  became  more  frequent ;  and  at  length  he 
announced  his  intended  departure  for  Lisbon,  on  his  way  to 
England.  A  small  covered  vehicle,  drawn  by  one  horse,  was 
to  convey  them  to  the  city,  at  which  place  he  promised  to 
procure  her  a  female  attendant,  and  necessaries  for  the  voyage 
home.  It  was  no  time  or  place  for  dehcate  punctilio ;  and 
Julia  quietly,  but  with  a  heart  nearly  broken,  prepared  to 
submit  to  the  wishes  of  her  late  husband.  After  leavinjr  the 
dwelling,  the  manners  of  her  guide  sensibly  altered ;  he 
became  complimentary  and  assiduous  to  please,  but  in  a  way 
rather  to  offend  than  conciliate;  until  his  attentions  became 
60  irksome,  that  Julia  actually  meditated  stopping  at  some 
of  the  villages  through  which  they  passed,  and  abandoning 
the  attempt  of  visiting  England  entirely.  But  the  desir"?  to 
comply  with  Fitzgerald's  wish,  that  she  would  console  hia 
mother  for  the  loss  of  an  only  child,  and  the  dread  of  the 


250  PRECAunoN. 

an^^er  of  her  relatives,  determined  her  to  persevere  until  they 
reached  Lisbon,  where  she  was  resolved  to  separate  for  ever 
from  the  disao^reeable  and  unknown  j^uardian  into  whose 
Keeping  she  had  been  thrown  by  chance. 

The  last  day  of  their  weary  ride,  while  passing  a  wood,  the 
officer  so  far  forgot  his  own  character  and  Julia's  misfor 
tunes,  as  to  offer  personal  indignities.  Grown  desperate  from 
her  situation,  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  sprang  from  the  vehicle,  and 
by  her  cries  attracted  the  notice  of  an  officer  who  was  riding 
express  on  the  same  road  with  themselves.  He  advanced  to 
her  assistance  at  speed,  but  as  he  arrived  near  them,  a  pistol 
fired  from  the  carriage  brought  his  horse  down,  and  the 
treacherous  friend  was  enabled  to  escape  undetected.  Julia 
endeavored  to  explain  her  situation  to  her  rescuer ;  and  by 
her  distress  and  appearance,  satisfied  him  at  once  of  its  truth. 
Wiihin  a  short  time,  a  strong  escort  of  light  dragoons  came 
up,  and  the  officer  despatched  some  for  a  conveyance,  and 
othei*s  in  pursuit  of  that  disgrace  to  the  army,  the  villanous 
guide :  the  former  was  soon  obtained,  but  no  tidings  could 
be  had  of  the  latter.  The  carriage  was  found  at  a  short  dis- 
tance, without  the  horse  and  with  the  baggage  of  Julia,  but 
with  no  vestige  of  its  owner.  She  never  knew  his  name,  and 
either  accident  or  art  had  so  completely  enveloped  him  in 
mystery,  that  all  efforts  to  unfold  it  then  were  fruitless,  and 
had  continued  so  ever  since. 

On  their  arrival  in  Lisbon,  every  attention  was  shown  t' 
the  disconsolate  widow  the  most  refined  delicacy  could  die 
^te,  and  every  comfort  and  respect  were  procured  for  her 
which  the  princely  fortune,  high  rank,  and  higher  charactei 
of  the  Earl  of  Pendennyss,  could  command.  It  was  this  noble- 
man, who,  on  his  way  from  head-quarters  with  despatches 
for  England,  had  been  the  means  of  preserving  Julia  from  a 
fate  worse  than  death.     A  packet  was  in  waiting  for  the 


PRECAUTION.  257 

eaii,  and  they  proceeded  in  her  for  home.  The  Donna  Lo- 
renza  was  the  widow  of  a  subaltern  Spanish  officer,  who  had 
fallen  under  the  orders  and  near  Pendennyss,  and  the  interest 
he  took  in  her  brave  husband  had  induced  hiin  to  offer  her, 
in  the  destruction  of  her  little  fortune  by  the  enemy,  his  pro« 
taction :  for  near  two  years  he  had  maintained  her  at  Lisbon, 
and  now,  judging  her  a  proper  person,  had  persuaded  her  to 
accompany  Mrs,  Fitzgerald  to  England. 

On  the  passage,  which  was  very  tedious,  the  earl  became 
more  intimately  acquainted  with  the  history  and  character 
of  his  young  friend,  and  by  a  course  of  gentle  yet  powerful 
expedients  had  drawn  her  mind  gradually  from  its  gloomy 
contemplation  of  futurity,  to  a  juster  sense  of  good  and  evil 
The  peculiarity  of  her  religious  persuasion  afforded  an  intro- 
duction to  frequent  discussions  of  the  real  opinions  of  that 
church,  to  which  JuUa  had  hitherto  belonged,  although  igno- 
rant of  all  its  essential  and  vital  truths.  These  conversations, 
which  were  renewed  repeatedly  in  their  intercourse  while 
under  the  protection  of  his  sister  in  London,  laid  the  founda- 
tions of  a  faith  which  left  her  nothing  to  hope  for  but  the 
happy  termination  of  her  earthly  probation. 

The  mother  of  Fitzgerald  w^as  dead,  and  as  he  had  no  near 
relative  left,  Juha  found  herself  alone  in  the  world.  Her 
husband  had  taken  the  precaution  to  make  a  will  in  season 
it  was  properly  authenticated,  and  his  widow,  by  the  powerful 
assistance  of  Pendennyss,  was  put  in  quiet  possession  of  a 
little  independency.  It  was  while  waiting  the  decision  of 
this  affair  that  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  resided  for  a  short  time  near 
Bath.  As  soon  as  it  was  terminated,  the  earl  and  his  sister 
had  seen  her  settled  in  her  present  abode,  and  once  since  had 
they  visited  her ;  but  delicacy  had  kept  him  away  from  the 
cottage,  although  his  attempts  to  serve  her  had  been  constant, 
though  not  always  successful*.     He  had,  on  his  return  to 


258  PRECAUTION. 

Spain,  seen  her  father,  and  interceded  with  him  on  her 
behalf,  but  in  vain.  The  anger  of  the  Spani^r'i  remained 
unappeased,  and  for  a  season  he  did  not  rene*v  his  eflforts ; 
out  having  heard  that  her  father  was  indisposed,  Juha  had 
employed  the  earl  once  more  to  make  her  pea'^e  with  him, 
without  prevailing.  The  letter  the  ladies  had  found  her 
weeping  over  was  from  Pendennyss,  informing  her  of  his 
want  of  success  on  that  occasion. 

The  substance  of  the  foregoing  narrative  was  related  by 
Mrs.  Fitzgerald  to  Mrs.  Wilson,  who  repeated  it  to  Emily  in 
their  ride  home.  The  compassion  of  both  ladies  was  strongly 
moved  in  behalf  of  the  young  widow ;  yet  Mrs.  Wilson  did 
not  fail  to  point  out  to  her  niece  the  consequences  of  decep- 
tion, and  chiefly  the  misery  which  had  followed  from  an 
abandonmerlt  of  some  of  the  primary  duties  of  life — obedience 
and  respect  to  her  parent.  Emily,  though  keenly  alive  to 
all  the  principles  inculcated  by  her  aunt,  found  so  much  to 
be  pitied  in  the  fate  of  her  friend,  that  her  failings  lost  their 
proper  appearance  in  her  eyes,  and  for  a  while  she  could 
think  of  nothing  but  Julia  and  her  misfortunes.  Previously 
to  their  leaving  the  cottage,  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  with  glowing 
cheeks  and  some  hesitation,  informed  Mrs.  Wilson  she  had 
yet  another  important  communication  to  make,  but  would 
postpone  it  until  her  next  visit,  which  Mrs.  Wilson  promised 
Bhould  be  on  the  succeeding  dav. 


PREOAT7TIOW  259 


CHAPTEE  XXYII. 

Emily  threw  a  look  of  pleasure  on  Denbigh,  as  he  handed 
her  from  the  carriage,  which  would  have  said,  if  looks  could 
talk,  'I  In  the  principles  you  have  displayed  on  more  than 
one  occasion,  I  have  a  pledge  of  your  worth."  As  he  led 
her  into  the  house,  he  laughingly  informed  her  that  he  had 
that  morning  received  a  letter  which  would  make  his  absence 

from  L necessary  for  a  short  time,  and  that  he  must 

remonstrate  against  these  long  and  repeated  visits  to  a  cottage 
where  all  attendants  of  the  male  sex  were  excluded,  as  they 
encroached  greatly  on  his  pleasures  and  improvements, 
bowing,  as  he  spoke,  to  Mrs.  Wilson.  To  this  Emily  replied, 
gaily,  that  possibly,  if  he  conducted  himself  to  their  satisfac- 
tion, they  would  intercede  for  his  admission.  Expressing  his 
pleasure  at  this  promise,  as  Mrs.  Wilson  thought  rather 
awkwardly,  Denbigh  changed  the  conversation.  At  dinner 
he  repeated  to  the  family  what  he  had  mentioned  to  Emily 
of  his  departure,  and  also  liis  expectption  of  meeting  with 
iiOrd  'JliHtttiitot;  .iuniiii  m^  journey. 

'  Havt;  vou  iieard  from  Chatter  ton  lately,  John  ?"  inquired 
Sij  Edward  Moseley. 

"Yes,  sir,  to-day  :  he  had  left  Denbigh  Castle  a  fortnight 
since,  and  writes  he  is  to  meet  his  friend,  the  duke,  at  Bath.'* 

"  Are  you  connected  with  his  grace,  Mr.  Denbigh  ?"  asked 
Lady  Moseley. 

A  smile  of  indefinite  meaning  played  on  the  expressive  face 
of  Denbigh,  as  he  answered  slightly — 


200  PRECAUTION. 

"He  has  a  sister,"  continued  Lady  Moseley,  wilKng  to 
know  more  of  Chatterton's  friends  and  Denbigh's  relatives. 

"  He  has,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

"  Her  name  is  Harriet,"  observed  Mrs.  Wilson.  Denbigh 
bowed  his  assent  in  silence,  and  Emily  timidly  added — 

"  Lady  Harriet  Denbigh  2" 

"  Lady  Harriet  Denbigh — will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  tak( 
wine  ?" 

The  manner  of  the  gentleman  during  this  dialogue  had  not 
been  in  the  least  unpleasant,  but  it  was  peculiar;  it  pro 
hibited  anything  further  on  the  subject;  and  Emily  was 
obliged  to  be  content  without  knowing  who  Marian  was,  or 
whether  her  name  was  to  be  found  in  the  Denbigh  family  or 
not.  Emily  was  not  in  the  least  jealous,  but  she  wished  to 
know  all  to  whom  her  lover  was  dear. 

"  Do  the  Dowager  and  the  young  ladies  accompany  Chat- 
terton  ?"  asked  Sir  Edward,  as  he  turned  to  John,  who  was 
eating  his  fruit  in  silence. 

"  Yes,  sir — I  hope — that  is,  I  believe  she  will,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  She !     Who  is  she,  my  son  ?" 

"  Grace  Chatterton,"  said  John,  starting  from  his  medita- 
tions.    "  Did  you  not  ask  me  about  Grace,  Sir  Edward  ?" 

"  Not  particularly,  I  believe,"  said  the  baronet,  dryly. 

Denbigh  again  smiled :  it  was  a  smile  different  from  any 
Mrs.  Wilson  had  ever  seen  on  his  countenance,  and  gave  an 
entirely  novel  expression  to  his  face;  it  was  full  of  meaning 
it  was  knowing — spoke  more  of  the  man  of  the  world  than 
anything  she  had  before  noticed  in  him,  and  left  on  her  mind 
one  of  those  vague  impressions  she  was  often  troubled  with, 
that  there  was  something  about  Denbigh  in  character  or 
wndition,  or  both,  that  was  mysterious. 

The  spiiit  of  Jane  was  too  great  to  leave  her  a  pining  oj 


PREGAUTIOK.  .  261 

pcisive  maiden  ;  yet  her  feelings  had  sustained  a  shock  that 
time  alone  could  cure.  She  appeared  again  amongst  her 
friends  ;  but  the  consciousness  of  her  expectations  with  re- 
spect to  the  colonel  being  known  to  them,  threw  around  her 
a  hauteur  and  distance  veiy  foreign  to  her  natural  manner. 
Emily  alone,  whose  every  movement  sprang  from  the 
spontaneous  feelings  of  her  heart,  and  whose  words  and 
actions  were  influenced  by  the  finest  and  most  aftectionate 
delicacy,  such  as  she  was  not  conscious  of  possessing  herself, 
won  upon  the  better  feelings  of  her  sister  so  far,  as  to  restore 
between  them  the  usual  exchange  of  kindness  and  sympathy. 
But  Jane  admitted  no  confidence ;  she  found  nothing  con- 
soling, nothing  solid,  to  justify  her  attachment  to  Egerton ; 
nothing  indeed,  excepting  such  external  advantages  as  she 
was  now  ashamed  to  admit  had  ever  the  power  over  her 
they  in  reality  had  possessed.  The  marriage  of  the  fugi- 
tives in  Scotland  had  been  announced ;  and  as  the  impression 
that  Egerton  was  to  be  connected  with  the  Moseleys  was 
destroyed  of  course,  their  every-day  acquaintances,  feeling 
the  resti-aints  removed  that  such  an  opinion  had  once  im- 
posed, were  free  in  their  comments  on  his  character.  Sir 
Edward  and  Lady  Moseley  were  astonished  to  find  how 
many  things  to  his  disadvantage  were  generally  known ; 
that  he  gambled — intrigued — and  was  in  debt — were  no 
secrets  apparently  to  anybody,  but  to  those  who  were  most 
interested  in  knowing  the  truth  ;  while  Mrs.  AVilson  saw  in 
these  facts  additional  reasons  for  examining  and  judging  for 
oui-selves  ;  the  world  uniformly  concealing  from  the  party 
and  his  friends  their  honest  opinions  of  his  character.  Some 
of  these  insinuations  reached  the  ears  of  Jane :  her  aunt 
having  rightly  judged,  that  the  surest  way  to  destroy 
Egerton's  power  over  the  imagination  of  her  niece  was  to 
strip  him  of  his  fictitious  qualities,  suggested  this  expedient 


262  .  PRECAUTION. 

to  Lady  Moseley ;  and  some  of  their  visitors  had  thought, 
as  the  colonel  had  certainly  been  attentive  to  Miss  Moseley, 
it  would  give  her  pleasure  to  know  that  her  rival  had  not 
made  the  most  eligible  match  in  the  kingdom.  The 
project  of  Mrs.  Wilson  succeeded  in  a  great  measure; 
but  although  Egerton  fell,  Jane  did  not  find  she  rose  in 
uer  own  estimation ;  and  her  friends  wisely  concluded  that 
time  was  the  only  remedy  that  could  restore  her  former 
serenity. 

In  the  morning,  Mrs.  Wilson,  unwilling  to  have  Emily 
present  at  a  conversation  she  intended  to  hold  with  Denbigh, 
with  a  view  to  satisfy  her  annoying  doubts  as  to  some  minor 
points  in  his  character,  after  excusing  herself  to  her  niece, 
invited  that  gentleman  to  a  morning  drive.  He  accepted 
her  invitation  cheerfully ;  and  Mrs.  Wilson  saw,  it  was  only 
as  they  drove  from  the  door  without  Emily,  that  he  betrayed 
the  faintest  reluctance  to  the  jaunt.  When  they  had  got  a 
short  distance  from  the  lodge  she  acquainted  him  with  her 
intention  of  presenting  him  to  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  whither  she 
had  ordered  the  coachman  to  proceed.  Denbigh  started  as 
she  mentioned  the  name,  and  after  a  few  moments'  silence, 
desired  Mrs.  Wilson  to  allow  him  to  stop  the  carriage ;  he 
was  not  very  well — was  sorry  to  be  so  rude — but  with  her 
permission,  he  would  alight  and  return  to  the  house.  As 
he  requested  in  an  earnest  manner  that  she  would  proceed 
without  him,  and  by  no  means  disappoint  her  friend,  Mrs. 
Wilson  complied ;  yet,  somewhat  at  a  loss  to  account  for  his 
sudden  illness,  she  turned  her  head  to  see  how  the  sick  man 
fared,  a  short  time  after  he  had  left  her,  and  was  not  a  little 
surprised  to  see  him  talking  very  composedly  with  John 
who  had  met  him  on  his  way  to  the  fields  with  his  gun. 
Lovesick — thought  Mrs.  Wilson  with  a  smile ;  and  as  sh<j 
rode  on  she  came  to  the  conclusion,  that  as  Denbigh  was  to 


PRECAUTION.  203 

leave  them  soon,  Emily  would  have  an  important  communi- 
cation to  make  on  her  return. 

"  Well,"  thought  Mrs.  Wilson  with  a  sigh,  "  if  it  is  to 
happen,  it  may  as  well  be  done  at  once." 

Mrs.  Fitzgerald  was  expecting  her,  and  appeared  rather 
pleased  than  otherwise  that  she  had  come  alone.  After 
some  introductory  conversation,  the  ladies  withdrew  by 
t-iemselves,  and  JuHa  acquainted  Mrs.  Wilson  with  a  new 
source  of  uneasiness.  The  day  the  ladies  had  promised  to 
visit  her,  but  had  been  prevented  by  the  arrangements  for 
the  ball,,  the  Donna  Lorenza  had  driven  to  the  village  to 
make  some  purchases,  attended  as  usual  by  their  only  man- 
servant, and  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  was  sitting  in  the  little  parlor 
in  momentary  expectation  of  her  friends  by  herself.  The 
sound  of  footsteps  drew  her  to  the  door,  which  she  opened 
for  the  admission  of  the  wretch  whose  treachery  to  her 
dying  husband's  requests  had  given  her  so  much  uneasiness. 
Horror — fear — surprise — altogether,  prevented  her  from 
making  any  alarm  at  the  moment,  and  she  sank  into  a 
chair,  lie  stood  between  her  and  the  door,  as  he  endeavor- 
ed to  draw  her  into  a  conversation ;  he  assured  her.  she  had 
nothing  to  fear;  that  he  loved  her,  and  her  alone;  that  he 
was  about  to  be  married  to  a  daughter  of  Sir  Edward 
Moseley,  but  would  give  her  up,  fortune,  everything,  if  she 
would  consent  to  become  his  wife — that  the  views  of  her 
^)rotector,  he  doubted  not,  were  dishonorable — that  he 
iiimself  was  willing  to  atone  for  his  former  excess  of  passion, 
by  a  life  devoted  to  her. 

How  much  longer  he  would  have  gone  on,  and  what 
further  he  would  have  offered,  is  unknown ;  for  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald,  having  .  recovered  herself  a  little,  darted  to 
the  bell  on  the  other  side  of  the  room ;  he  tried  to  pre- 
vent her  ringing  it,  but  was   too   late ;    a   short   struggle 


2G4  PRECAUTION. 

followed,  when  the  sound  of  the  footsteps  of  the  maid 
compelled  him  to  retreat  precipitately.  Mrs.  Fitzgerald 
added,  that  his  assertion  concerning  Miss  Moseley  had 
given  her  incredible  uneasiness,  and  prevented  her  making 
the  communication  yesterday;  but  she  understood  this 
morning  through  her  maid,  that  a  Colonel  Egerton,  who  had 
been  supposed  to  be  engaged  to  one  of  Sir  Ed w aid' 
daughters,  had  eloped  with  another  lady.  That  Egerton 
w^as  her  persecutor,  she  did  not  now  entertain  a  doubi ; 
but  that  it  was  in  the  power  of  Mrs.  Wilson  probably  to 
make  the  discovery,  as  in  the  struggle  between  them  for 
the  bell,  a  pocket-book  had  fallen  fro-n  the  breast-pocket  of 
his  coat,  and  his  retreat  was  too  sudden  to  recover  it. 

As  she  put  the  book  into  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Wilson,  she 
desired  she  would  take  means  to  return  it  to  its  owner  ;  its 
contents  might  be  of  value,  though  she  had  not  thought  it 
correct  to  examine  it.  Mrs.  Wilson  took  the  book,  and  as 
she  dropped  it  into  her  work-bag,  smiled  at  the  Spanish 
punctilio  of  her  friend  in  not  looking  into  her  prize  under 
the  peculiar  circumstances. 

A  few  questions  as  to  the  place  and  year  of  his  first 
attempts,  soon  convinced  her  it  was  Egerton  whose  un- 
licensed passions  had  given  so  much  trouble  to  Mrs.  Fitz- 
gerald. He  had  served  but  one  campaign  in  Spain,  and  in 
that  year,  and  that  division  of  the  army  ;  and  surely  his 
'principles  were  no  restraint  upon  his  conduct.  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald  begged  the  advice  of  her  more  experienced  friend 
as  to  the  steps  she  ought  to  take;  to  which  the  former 
asked  if  she  had  made  Lord  Pendennyss  acquainted  with 
the  occurrence.  The  young  widow's  cheek  glowed  as  she 
answered,  that,  at  the  same  time  she  felt  assured  the  base 
insinuation  of  Egerton  was  unfounded,  it  had  created  a  re- 
pugnance in  her  to  troubling  the  earl  any  more  than  waa 


PRECAUTION.  265 

necessary  in  lier  affairs  ;  and  as  she  kissed  the  hand  of  Mi-s. 
Wilson,  she  added — "  besides,  }  our  goodness,  my  dear 
madam,  renders  any  other  adviser  unnecessary  now."  Mrs. 
Wilson  pressed  her  hand  affectionately,  and  assured  her  of 
her  good  wishes  and  unaltered  esteem.  She  commended 
her  delicacy,  and  plainly  told  the  young  widow,  that  how 
ver  unexceptionable  the  character  of  Pendennyss  might  be, 
a  female  friend  was  the  only  one  a  woman  in  her  situation 
could  repose  confidence  in,  without  justly  incurring  th 
sarcasms  of  the  world. 

As  Egerton  was  now  married,  and  would  not  probably  offer, 
for  the  present  at  least,  any  further  molestation  to  Mrs.  Fitz- 
gerald, it  was  concluded  to  be  unnecessary  to  take  any  imme 
diate  measures  of  precaution ;  and  Mrs.  Wilson  thought  the 
purse  of  Mr.  Jarvis  might  be  made  the  means  of  keeping  him 
within  proper  bounds  in  future.  The  merchant  was  pronipt, 
and  not  easily  intimidated ;  and  the  shghtest  intimation  of  the 
truth  would,  she  knew,  be  sufficient  to  engage  him  on  their 
side,  heart  and  hand. 

The  ladies  parted,  with  a  promise  of  meeting  soon  again, 
and  an  additional  interest  in  each  other  by  the  communicar 
tions  of  that  and  the  preceding  day. 

Mrs.  Wilson  had  ridden  half  the  distance  between  the  cot- 
tage and  the  lodge,  before  it  occurred  \o  her  they  had  not 
absolutely  ascertained,  by  the  best  means  in  their  possession, 
the  identity  of  Colonel  Egerton  with  Julia's  persecutor.  She 
accordingly  took  the  pocket-book  from  her  bag,  and  opened 
it  for  examination  :  a  couple  of  letters  fell  from  it  into  her 
lap,  and  conceiving  their  direction  would  establish  all  >^h.G 
wished  to  know,  as  they  bad  been  read,  she  turned  to  tie 
superscription  of  one  of  them,  and  saw — "  George  Denbigh, 
Esq."  in  the  well  known  hand-writing  of  Dr.  Ives. — Mrs, 
Wilson  felt  herself  overcome  to  a  degree  that  compelled  her 
12 


266  PKECAUTIOK. 

to  lower  a  glass  of  the  carriage  for  air.  She  sat  gazing  on 
the  letters  until  the  characters  swam  before  her  eyes  in  undis- 
tinguished confusion ;  and  with  diflSculty  she  rallied  her 
thoughts  to  the  point  necessary  for  investigation.  As  soon 
as  she  found  herself  equal  to  the  task,  she  examined  the  let- 
ters with  the  closest  scrutiny,  and  opened  them  both  to  be 
sure  there  was  no  mistake.  She  saw  the  dates,  the  "  dear 
George"  at  the  commencements,  and  the  doctor's  name  sub- 
scribed, before  she  would  believe  they  were  real ;  it  was  then 
the  truth  appeared  to  break  upon  her  in  a  flood  of  light.  The 
aversion  of  Denbigh  to  speak  of  Spain,  or  of  his  services  in 
that  country — his  avoiding  Sir  Herbert  Nicholson,  and  that 
gentleman's  observations  respecting  him — Colonel  Egerton's 
and  his  own  manners — his  absence  from  the  ball,  and  start- 
ling looks  on  the  following  morning,  and  at  different  times 
before  and  since — his  displeasure  at  the  name  of  Pendennyss 
on  vaiious  occasions — and  his  cheerful  acceptance  of  her 
invitation  to  ride  until  he  knew  her  destination,  and  singu- 
lar manner  of  leaving  her — were  all  accounted  for  by  this 
dreadful  discovery,  and  Mrs.  Wilson  found  the  solution  of  her 
doubts  rushing  on  her  mind  with  a  force  and  rapidity  that 
sickened  her. 

The  misfortunes  of  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  the  unfortunate  issue 
to  the  passion  of  Jane,  were  trifles  in  the  estimation  of  Mrs. 
Wilson,  compared  to  the  discovery  of  Denbigh's  unworthi- 
ness.  She  revolved  in  her  mind  his  conduct  on  various  occa- 
sions, and  wondered  how  one  who  could  behave  so  well  in 
common,  could  thus  yield  to  temptation  on  a  particular  occa- 
sion. His  recent  attempts,  his  hypocrisy,  however,  proved 
that  his  villany  was  systematic,  and  she  was  not  weak  enough 
to  hide  from  herself  the  evidence  of  his  guilt,  or  of  its  enor* 
mity.  His  interposition  between  Emily  and  death,  she  attri 
bated  now  to  natural  courage,  and  perhaps  in  some  measure 


PRECAUTION.  207 

to  chance;  but  his  profound  and  unvarying  reverence  fof 
holy  things,  his  consistent  charity,  his  refusing  to  fight,  to 
what  were  they  owing  ?  And  Mrs.  Wilson  mourned  th 
weakness  of  human  nature,  while  she  acknowledged  to  her 
self,  there  might  be  men,  qualified  by  nature,  and  even  dis- 
posed by  reason  and  grace,  to  prove  ornaments  to  religion 
and  the  world,  who  fell  beneath  the  maddening  influence  of 
their  besetting  sins.  The  superficial  and  interested  vices  of 
Egerton  vanished  before  these  awful  and  deeply  seated 
offences  of  Denbigh,  and  the  correct  widow  saw  at  a  glance, 
that  he  was  the  last  man  to  be  intrusted  with  the  happiness 
of  her  niece  ;  but  how  to  break  this  heartrending  discovery 
to  Emily  was  a  new  source  of  uneasiness  to  her,  and  the  car- 
riage stopped  at  the  door  of  the  lodge,  ere  she  had  deter- 
mined on  the  first  step  required  of  her  by  duty. 

Her  brother  handed  her  out,  and,  filled  with  the  dread  that 
Denbiofh  had  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  of  her  ab- 
sence to  press  his  suit  with  Emily,  she  eagerly  inquired  after 
him.  She  was  rejoiced  to  hear  he  had  returned  with  John 
for  a  fowling-piece,  and  together  they  had  gone  in  pursuit  of 
game,  although  she  saw  in  it  a  convincing  proof  that  a  desire 
to  avoid  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  and  not  indisposition,  had  induced 
him  to  leave  her. — As  a  last  alternative,  she  resolved  to  have 
the  pocket-book  returned  to  him  in  her  presence,  in  order  to 
see  if  he  acknowledged  it  to  be  his  property ;  and,  accord 
ingly,  she  instructed  her  own  man  to  hand  it  to  him  while  ai- 
dinner,  simply  saying  he  had  lost  it. 

The  open  and  unsuspecting  air  with  which  her  niece  met 
Denbigh  on  his  return  gave  Mrs.  Wilson  an  additional  shock, 
and  she  could  hardly  command  herself  sufficiently  to  extend 
the  common  courtesies  of  good  breeding  to  Mr.  Benfield's 
guest. 

While  sitting  at  the  dessert,  her  servant  handed  the  pocket- 


268  PRECAUTION. 

book,  as  directed  by  his  mistress,  to  its  owner,  saying,  *'  Your 
pocket-book,  I  believe,, Mr.  Denbigh."  Denbigh  took  the 
book,  and  held  it  in  his  hand  for  a  moment  in  surprise,  and 
then  fixed  his  eye  keenly  on  the  man,  as  he  inquired  where 
he  found  it,  and  how  he  knew  it  was  his.  These  were  inter- 
rogatoiies  Francis  was  not  prepared  to  answer,  and  in  his  con- 
fusion he  naturally  turned  his  eyes  on  his  mistress.  Denbigh 
followed  their  direction  with  his  own,  and  in  encountering  the 
looks  of  the  lady,  he  asked  in  a  stammering  manner,  and  with 
a  face  of  scarlet, 

"  Am  I  indebted  to  you,  madam,  for  my  property  ?" 
"  No,  sir  ;  it  was  given  me  by  one  who  found  it,  to  restore 
to  you,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  gravely,  and  the  subject  was  dnipped, 
both  appearing  willing  to  say  no  more.  Yet  Denbigh  was 
abstracted  and  absent  during  the  remainder  of  the  repast,  and 
Emily  spoke  to  him  once  or  twice  without  obtaining  an 
answer.  Mrs.  Wilson  caught  his  eye  several  times  fixed  on 
her  with  an  inquiring  and  doubtful  expression,  that  convinced 
her  he  was  alarmed.  If  any  confirmation  of  his  guilt  had 
been  wanting,  the  consciousness  he  betrayed  during  this  scene 
aftbrded  it ;  and  she  set  seriously  about  considering  the  short- 
est and  best  method  of  interrupting  his  intercourse  with 
Emily,  before  he  had  drawn  from  her  an  acknowledgment 
of  her  love. 


PRECAUTION.  269 


CHAPTER  XXYTH 

On  withdrawing  to  her  dressing-room  after  dinner,  Mrs. 
Wilson  commenced  the  disagreeable  duty  of  removing  the 
veil  from  the  eyes  of  her  niece,  by  recounting  to  her  the 
substance  of  Mrs.  Fitzgerald's  last  communication.  To  the 
mnocence  of  Emily  such  persecution  could  excite  no  other 
sensations  than  surprise  and  horror ;  and  as  her  aunt  omitted 
the  part  concerning  the  daughter  of  Sir  Edward  Moseley,  she 
naturally  expressed  her  wonder  as  to  who  the  wretch  could 
be. 

"  Possibly,  aunt,"  she  said  with  an  involuntary  shudder, 
"  some  of  the  many  gentlemen  we  have  lately  seen,  and  one 
who  has  had  art  enough  to  conceal  his  real  character  from 
the  world." 

"  Concealment,  my  love,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  would  be 
hardly  necessary.  Such  is  the  fashionable  laxity  of  morals, 
that  I  doubt  not  many  of  his  associates  would  laugh  at  his 
misconduct,  and  that  he  would  still  continue  to  pass  with  the 
world  as  an  honorable  man." 

"  And  ready,"  cried  her  niece,  "  to  sacrifice  human  life,  in 
the  defence  of  any  ridiculous  punctilio." 

"  Or,"  added  Mrs.  Wilson,  striving  to  draw  nearer  to  her 
subject,  "  with  a  closer  veil  of  hypocrisy,  wear  even  an  affec 
tation  of   principle  and   moral  feeling   that  would  seem  to 
forbid  such  a  departure  from  duty  in  favor  of  custom." 

"  Oh !  no,  dear  aunt,"  exclaimed  Emily,  with  glowing 
cheeks  and  eyes  dancing  with  pleasure,  "  he  would  hardly 
tlare  to  be  so  very  base.     It  would  be  profanity." 


270  "*    PRECAUTION. 

Mrs.  Wilson  sighed  heavily  as  she  witnessed  that  confiding 
esteem  which  would  not  permit  her  niece  even  to  suspect  that 
an  act  which  in  Denbigh  had  been  so  warmly  applauded, 
could,  even  in  another,  proceed  from  unworthy  motives ;  and 
she  found  it  would  be  necessary  to  speak  in  the  plainest 
terms,  to  awaken  her  suspicions.  Willing,  however,  to  come 
gradually  to  the  distressing  truth,  she  replied — 

"  And  yet,  my  dear,  men  who  pride  themselves  greatly  on 
their  morals,  nay,  even  some  who  wear  the  mask  of  religion, 
and  perhaps  deceive  themselves,  admit  and  practise  this  very 
appeal  to  arms.  Such  inconsistencies  are  by  no  means 
uncommon.  And  why,  then,  might  there  not,  with  equal 
probability,  be  others  who  would  revolt  at  murder,  and  yet 
not  hesitate  being  guilty  of  lesser  enormities?  This  is,  in 
some  measure,  the  case  of  every  man ;  and  it  is  only  to  con- 
sider kilhng  in  unlawful  encounters  as  murder,  to  make  it  one 
in  point." 

"  Hypocrisy  is  so  mean  a  vice,  I  should  not  think  a  brave 
man  could  stoop  to  it,"  said  Emily,  "  and  Julia  admits  he 
was  brave." 

"  And  would  not  a  brave  man  revolt  at  the  cowardice  of 
insulting  an  unprotected  woman  ?  And  your  hero  did  that 
too,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilson,  bitterly,  losing  her  self-command 
in  indignation. 

"  Oh  !  do  not  call  him  my  hero,  I  beg  of  you,  dear  aunt," 
said  Emily,  starting,  excited  by  so  extraordinary  an  allusion, 
but  instantly  losing  the  unpleasant  sensation  in  the  delightful 
consciousness  of  the  superiority  of  the  man  on  whom  she  had 
bestowed  her  own  admiration. 

"  In  fact,  my  child,"  continued  her  aunt,  "  our  natures  are 
guilty  of  the  grossest  inconsistencies.  The  vilest  wretch  has 
generally  some  property  or.  which  he  values  himself,  and  the 
most  perfect  are  too  often  frail  on  some  tender  point.     Long 


PRECAUTION.  271 

ind  hied  friendships  are  those  only  wliic]\  can  be  trusted,  and 
these  oftentimes  fail." 

Emily  looked  at  her  aunt  in  surprise  at  hearing  her  utter 
Bucli  unusual  sentiments ;  for  Mrs.  Wilson,  at  the  same  time 
she  had,  by  divine  assistance,  deeply  impressed  her  niece 
with  the  frailty  of  her  nature,  had  withheld  the  disgusting 
representation  of  human  vices  from  her  view,  as  unnecessary 
to  her  situation  and  dangerous  to  her  humility.  ' 

After  a  short  pause,  Mrs.  Wilson  continued,  "  Marriage  is 
a  fearful  step  in  a  woman,  and  one  she  is  compelled,  in  some 
measure,  to  adventure  her  happiness  on,  without  fitting 
opportunities  of  judging  of  the  merit  of  the  man  she  confides 
in.  Jane  is  an  instance  in  point,  but  I  devoutly  hope  you  are 
not  to  be  another." 

While  speaking,  Mrs.  Wilson  had  taken  the  hand  of  Emily, 
and  by  her  looks  and  solemn  manner  she  had  succeeded  in 
alarming  her  niece,  although  Denbigh  was  yet  furthest  from 
the  thoughts  of  Emily.  The  aunt  reached  her  a  glass  of 
water,  and  willing  to  get  rid  of  the  hateful  subject  she  con- 
tinued, hurriedly,  "  Did  you  not  notice  the  po^,ket-book 
Francis  gave  to  Mr.  Denbigh  ?"  Emily  fixed  her  inquiring 
eyes  on  her  aunt,  as  the  other  added,  "  It  was  the  one  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald  gave  me  to-day."  Something  like  an  indefinite 
glimpse  of  the  facts  crossed  the  mind  of  Emily  ;  and  as  it 
most  obviously  involved  a  separation  from  Denbigh,  she  sank 
lifeless  into  the  extended  arms  of  her  aunt.  This  had  been 
anticipated  by  Mrs.  Wilson,  and  a  timely  application  of 
restoratives  soon  brought  her  back  to  a  consciousness  of 
misery.  Mrs.  Wilson,  unwilling  any  one  but  herself  should 
witness  this  first  burst  of  grief,  succeeded  in  getting  her  niece 
to  her  own  room  and  in  bed.  Emily  made  no  lamentations — 
shed  no  tears — asked  no  questions — her  eye  was  fixed,  and 
every  faculty  appeared  oppressed  with  the  load  on  hei  heart. 


272  PRECAUTION. 

Mrs.  Wilson  knew  her  situation  too  well  to  intrude  witK 
unseasonable  consolation  or  useless  reflections,  but  sat 
patiently  by  her  side,  waiting  anxiously  for  the  moment  she 
could  be  of  service.  At  length  the  uplifted  eyes  and  clasped 
hands  of  Emily  assured  her  she  had  not  forgotten  herself  or 
her  duty,  and  she  was  rewarded  for  her  labor  and  forbearance 
by  a  flood  of  tears.  Emily  was  now  able  to  listen  to  a  mor 
full  statement  of  the  reasons  her  aunt  had  for  believing  in  the 
guili  of  Denbigh,  and  she  felt  as  if  her  heart  was  frozen  up 
for  ever,  as  the  proofs  followed  each  other  until  they  amounted 
to  demonstration.  As  there  was  some  indication  of  fevei 
from  her  agitated  state  of  mind,  her  aunt  required  she  should 
remain  in  her  room  until  morning ;  and  Emily,  feeling  every 
way  unequal  to  a  meeting  with  Denbigh,  gladly  assented 
After  ringing  for  her  maid  to  sit  in  the  adjoining  room,  Mrs. 
Wilson  went  below,  and  announced  to  the  family  the  indis- 
position of  her  charge,  and  her  desire  to  obtain  a  little  sleep. 
Denbigh  looked  anxious  to  inquire  after  the  health  of  Emily, 
but  there  was  a  restraint  on  all  his  actions,  since  the  return 
of  his  book,  that  persuaded  Mrs.  Wilson  he  apprehended 
that  a  detection  of  his  conduct  had  taken  place.  He  did 
venture  to  ask  when  they  were  to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
Miss  Moseley  again,  hoping  it  would  be  that  evening,  as  he 
had  fixed  the  morning  for  his  departure ;  and  when  he  learnt 
that  Emily  had  retired  for  the  night,  his  anxiety  was  sensibly 
increased,  and  he  instantly  withdrew.  Mrs.  Wilson  was' 
alone  in  the  drawing-room,  and  about  to  join  her  niece,  ai. 
Denbigh  entered  it  with  a  letter  in  his  hand  :  he  approached 
her  with  a  diffident  and  constrained  manner,  and  com- 
menced the  followinsj  dialoojue : 

"  My  anxiety  and  situation  will  plead  my  apology  for  trou- 
bling Miss  Moseley  at  this  time — may  I  ask  you,  madam,  to  de- 
liver this  letter — I  hardly  dare  ask  you  for  your  good  offices." 


PRECAUTION.  273 

Mrs.  Wilson  took  the  letter  and  coldly  replied, 

"  Certainly,  sir ;  and  I  sincerely  wish  I  could  be  of  any 
real  service  to  you." 

"  I  perceive,  madam,"  said  Denbigh,  like  one  that  was 
choking,  *'  I  have  forfeited  your  good  opinion — that  pocket 
book—" 

"  Has  made  a  dreadful  discovery,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  shud- 
dering. 

"  Will  not  one  offence  be  pardoned,  dear  madam  ?"  cried 
Denbigh,  with  warmth  ;  "  if  you  knew  my  circumstances — 
the  cruel  reasons— why — why  did  I  neglect  the  paternal 
advice  of  Doctor  Ives  ?" 

"  It  is  not  yet  too  late,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  more  mildly, 
"  for  your  own  good  ;  as  for  us,  your  deception — " 

"  Is  unpardonable — I  see  it — I  feel  it,"  cried  he,  in  the 
accent  of  despair  ;  "yet  Emily — Emily  may  relent — you  will 
at  least  give  her  my  letter — anything  is  better  than  this  sus- 
pense." 

"  You  shall  have  an  answer  from  Emily  this  evening,  and 
one  entirely  unbiassed  by  me,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson.  As  she 
closed  the  door,  she  observed  Denbigh  gazing  on  her  retiring 
figure  with  a  countenance  of  despair,  that  caused  a  feeling  of 
pity  to  mingle  with  her  detestation  of  his  vices. 

On  opening  the  door  of  Emily's  room,  Mrs.  Wilson  found 
her  niece  in  tears,  and  her  anxiety  for  her  health  was  alle- 
viated. She  knew  or  hoped,  that  if  she  could  once  call  in  the 
assistance  of  her  judgment  and  j)iety  to  lessen  her  sorrows, 
Emily,  however  she  might  mourn,  would  become  resigned  to 
her  situation  ;  and  the  first  step  to  attain  this  was  the  exer- 
cise of  those  faculties  which  had  been,  as  it  were,  momen- 
tarily annihilated.  Mrs.  Wilson  kissed  her  niece  with  tender- 
ness, as  she  placed  the  letter  in  her  hand,  and  told  her  she 
would  call  for  her  answer  within  an  hour.  Employment,  and 
12* 


274  PRECAUTION. 

the  necessity  of  acting,  would,  she  thought,  be  the  surest 
means  of  reviving  her  energies ;  nor  was  she  disappointed. 
When  the  aunt  returned  for  the  expected  answer,  she  was 
informed  by  the  maid  in  the  ante-chamber,  that  Miss  Moseley 
was  up,  and  had  been  writing.  On  entering,  Mrs.  Wilson  stood 
a  moment  in  admiration  of  the  picture  before  her.  Emily  was 
on  her  knees,  and  by  her  side,  on  the  carpet,  lay  the  letter 
and  its  answer :  her  face  was  hid  by  her  hair,  and  her  hands 
were  closed  in  the  fervent  grasp  of  petition.  In  a  minute  she 
rose,  and  approaching  her  aunt  with  an  air  of  profound 
resignation,  but  great  steadiness,  she  handed  her  the  letter? 
her  own  unsealed : 

"  Read  them,  madam,  and  if  you  approve  of  mine,  I  wil- 
thank  you  to  deliver  it." 

Her  aunt  folded  her  in  her  arms,  until  Emily,  finding  her- 
self yielding  under  the  effects  of  sympathy,  begged  to  be  left 
alone.  On  withdrawing  to  her  own  room,  Mrs.  Wilson  read 
the  contents  of  the  two  letters. 

"  I  rely  gTeatly  on  the  goodness  of  Miss  Moseley  to  pardon 
the  liberty  I  am  takmg,  at  a  moment  she  is  so  unfit  for 
such  a  subject ;  but  ray  departure — my  feelings- -must  plead 
my  apology.  From  the  moment  of  my  first  acquaintance 
with  you,  I  have  been  a  cheerful  subject  to  your  loveliness 
and  innocence.  I  feel — I  know — I  am  not  deserving  of  such 
a  blessing  ;  but  since  knowing  you,  as  I  do,  it  is  impossible 
not  to  strive  to  win  you.  You  have  often  thanked  me  as  the 
]  >reserver  of  your  life,  but  you  little  knew  the  deep  interest  I 
had  in  its  safety.  Without  it  my  own  would  be  valueless. 
By  accepting  my  offered  hand,  you  will  place  me  amongst 
the  happiest,  or  by  rejecting  it,  the  most  wretched  of  men.'* 

To  this  note,  which  was  unsigned,  and  evidently  written 


PRECAUTION.  27  5 

under  great  agitation  of  mind,  Emily  had  penned  the  fol- 
lowing reply : 

*'  Si  I — It  is  with  much  regret  that  I  find  myself  reduced 
to  the  possibility  of  giving  uneasiness  to  one  to  whom  I  am 
under  such  heavy  obligations.  It  will  never  be  in  my  power 
to  accept  the  honor  you  have  offered  me ;  and  I  beg  you  to 
Tec^ve  my  thanks  for  the  compliment  conveyed  in  your 
request,  as  well  as  my  good  wishes  for  your  happiness  in 
future,  .and  fervent  prayers  that  you  may  be  ever  found 
worthy  of  it. — Your  humble  servant, 

"  Emily  Moseley." 

Perfectly  satisfied  with  this  answer,  Mrs.  Wilson  went  below 
in  order  to  deliver  it  at  once.  She  thought  it  probable,  as  Den- 
bigh had  already  sent  his  baggage  to  a  tavern,  preparatory  to  his 
intended  journey,  they  would  not  meet  again  ;  and  as  she  felt 
a  strong  wish,  both  on  account  of  Doctor  Ives,  and  out  of 
respect  to  the  services  of  the  young  man  himself,  to  conceal 
his  conduct  from  the  world  entirely,  she  was  in  hopes  that 
his  absence  might  make  any  disclosure  unnecessary.  He 
took  the  letter  from  her  with  a  trembling  hand,  and  casting 
one  of  his  very  expressive  looks  at  her,  as  if  to  read  her 
thoughts,  he  withdrew. 

Emily  had  fallen  asleep  free  from  fever,  and  Mrs.  Wilson 
had  descended  to  the  supper-room,  when  Mr.  Benfield  was 
first  struck  with  the  absence  of  his  favorite.  An  inquiry  after 
Denbigh  was  instituted,  and  while  they  were  waiting  his 
appearance,  a  servant  handed  the  old  man  a  note. 

"  From  whom  ?"  cried  Mr.  Benfield,  in  surprisa 

*'  Mr.  Denbigh,  sir,"  said  the  servant. 

**  Mr.  Denbigh  ?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Benfield  :  "  no  accident,  I 
ope — I  remember  when  Lord  Gosford — here,  Peter,  your 
eyes  are  young ;  read  it  for  me,  read  it  aloud." 


276  PUECAUTIOX. 

As  all  but  Mrs.  Wilson  were  anxiously  waiting  to  know  the 
meaning  of  this  message,  and  Peter  had  many  preparations 
to  go  through  before  his  youthful  eyes  could  make  out  the 
contents,  John  hastily  caught  the  letter  out  of  his  hand,  saying 
he  would  save  him  the  trouble,  and,  in  obedience  to  hia 
uncle's  wishes,  he  read  aloud 

*'  Mr.  Denbigh,  being  under  the  necessity  of  leaving  L • 


immediately,  and  unable  to  endure  the  pain  of  taking  leave, 
avails  himself  of  this  means  of  tendering  his  warmest  thanks 
to  Mr.  Benfield,  for  his  hospitality,  and  to  his  amiable  guests 
for  their  many  kindnesses.  As  he  contemplates  leaving 
England,  he  desires  to  wish  them  all  a  long  and  an  aflfection- 
ate  farewell." 

"  Farewell !''  cried  Mr.  Benfield ;  "  farewell — does  he  say 
farewell,  John?  Here,  Peter,  run — no,  you  are  too  old — 
John,  run — bring  my  hat;  I'll  go  myself  to  the  village  — 
some  love-quarrel — Emmy  sick — and  Denbigh  going  away — 
yes— yes,  I  did  so  myself — Lady  Juhana,  poor  dear  soul,  she 
was  a  long  time  before  she  could  forget  it — but  Peter" — 
Peter  had  disappeared  the  instant  the  letter  was  finished,  and 
he  was  quickly  followed  by  John.  Sir  Edward  and  Lady 
Moseley  were  lost  in  amazement  at  this  sudden  and  unex- 
pected movement  of  Denbigh,  and  the  breast  of  each  of  the 
affectionate  parents  was  filled  with  a  vague  apprehension  that 
the  peace  of  mind  of  another  child  was  at  stake.  Jane  felt  a 
renewal  of  her  woes,  in  the  anticipation  of  something  similar 
for  her  sister — for  the  fancy  of  Jane  was  yet  active,  and  she 
did  not  cease  to  consider  the  defection  of  Egerton  a  kind  of 
unmerited  misfortune  and  fatality,  instead  of  a  probable  con- 
sequence of  want  of  principle.  Like  Mr.  Benfield,  she  was  in 
danger  of  raising  an  ideal  idol,  and  of  spending  the  r^naijiwdey 


PRECAUTION.  277 

of  her  days  in  devotion  to  qualities,  rarely  if  ever  found  iden- 
tified with  a  person  that  never  had  existed.  The  old  gentle- 
man was  entirely  engrossed  by  a  different  object ;  and  having 
in  his  own  opinion  decided  there  must  have  been  one  of  those 
misunderstandings  which  sometimes  had  occurred  to  himself 
and  Lady  Juliana,  he  quietly  composed  himself  to  eat  his 
salad  at  the  supper  table  :  on  turning  his  bead,  however,  in 
quest  of  his  first  glass  of  wine,  he  observed  Petei-  standing 
quietly  by  the  sideboard  with  the  favorite  goggles  over  his 
eyes.  Now  Peter  was  troubled  with  two  kinds  of  debility 
about  his  organs  of  vision ;  one  was  age  and  natural  weak- 
ness, while  the  other  proceeded  more  directly  from  the  heart. 
His  master  knew  of  these  facts,  and  he  took  the  alarm. 
Again  the  wine-glass  dropped  from  his  nerveless  hand,  as  he 
said  in  a  trembling  tone, 

"  Peter,  I  thought  )^ou  went" — 

"  Yes,  master,"  said  Peter,  laconically. 

"  You  saw  him,  Peter — will  he  rehirn  ]" 

Peter  was  busily  occupied  at  his  glasses,  although  no  one 
was  dry. 

'*  Peter,"  repeated  Mr.  Benfield,  rising  from  his  seat ;  "  is  he 
coming  in  time  for  supper  ?" 

Peter  was  obliged  to  reply,  and  deliberately  uncasing  his 
eyes  and  blowing  his  nose,  he  was  on  the  point  of  opening 
his  mouth,  as  John  came  into  the  room,  and  threw  himself 
mto  a  chair  with  an  air  of  great  vexation.  Peter  pointed  to 
the  young  gentleman  in  silence,  and  retired. 

"  John,"  cried  Sir  Edward,  "  where  is  Denbigh  ?*' 

"  Gone,  sir." 

"  Gone !" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  father,"  said  John,  "  gone  without  saying 
good-bye  to  one  of  us — without  telling  us  whither,  or  when 
to  return.     It  was  cruel  in  him — unkind — I'll  never  forgive 


278 


PRECAUTION. 


him" — and  John,  whose  feehngs  were  strong,  and  unusually 
excited,  hid  his  face  between  his  hands  on  the  table. — As  he 
raised  his  head  to  reply  to  a  question  of  Mr.  Benfield — of 
"  how  he  knew  he  had  gone,  for  the  coach  did  not  go 
until  daylight  ?''  Mrs.  Wilson  saw  evident  marks  of  tears. 
Such  proofs  of  emotion  in  one  like  John  Moseley  gave 
her  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  if  she  had  been  de- 
ceived, it  was  by  a  concurrence  of  circumstances  and  a 
depth  of  hypocrisy  almost  exceeding  belief:  self-reproach 
added  less  than  common,  therefore,  to  the  uneasiness  of  the 
moment. 

"  I  saw  the  innkeeper,  uncle,"  said  John,  "  who  told  me 
that  Denbigh  left  there  at  eight  o'clock  in  a  post-chaise  and 
four ;  but  I  will  go  to  London  in  the  morning  myself."  This 
was  no  soonei-  said  than  it  was  corroborated  by  acts,  for  the 
young  man  immediately  commenced  his  preparations  for  the 
journey.  The  family  separated  that  evening  with  melan- 
choly hearts ;  and  the  host  and  his  privy  counsellor  were 
closeted  for  half  an  hour  ere  they  retired  to  their  night's 
repose.  John  took  his  leave  of  them,  and  left  the  lodge  for 
the  inn,  with  his  man,  in  order  to  be  ready  for  the  mail. 
Mrs.  Wilson  looked  in  upon  Emily  before  she  withdrew  her- 
self, and  found  her  awake,  but  perfectly  calm  and  composed : 
she  said  but  little,  appearing  desirous  of  avoiding  all  allusions 
to  Denbigh ;  and  after  her  aunt  had  simply  acquainted  her 
with  his  departure,  and  her  resolution  to  conceal  the  cause, 
the  subject  was  dropped.  Mrs.  Wilson,  on  entering  her  own 
room,  thought  deeply  on  the  discoveries  of  the  day  :  they  had 
interfered  with  her  favorite  system  of  morals,  baffled  her 
ablest  calculations  upon  causes  and  effects,  but  in  no  degree 
had  impaired  her  faith  or  reliance  on  Providence.  She  knew 
one  exception  did  not  destroy  a  rule  :  she  was  certain  without 
princiDles  there  was  no  security  for  good  conduct,  and  the 


PRECAUTION.  279 

case   ^f  Denbigh   proved  it.     To  discover  these  principles, 
might  be  difficult ;  but  was  a  task  imperiously  required  at  her 
hands,  as  she  believed,  ere  she  yielded  the  present  and  futuf 
happiness  of  her  pupil  to  the  power  of  any  man. 


t280  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTEE  XXIX. 

The  day  had  not  yet  dawned,  when  John  Moseley  wa 
summoned  to  take  his  seat  in  the  mail  for  London.  Three 
of  the  places  were  already  occupied,  and  John  was  compelled 
to  get  a  seat  for  his  man  on  the  outside.  An  intercourse 
with  strangers  is  particularly  irksome  to  an  Englishman,  and 
none  appeared  disposed,  for  a  long  time,  to  break  the  silence. 
The  coach  had  left  the  little  village  of  L — —  far  behind  it, 
before  any  of  the  rational  beings  it  contained  thought  it  pru- 
dent or  becoming  to  bend  in  the  least  to  the  charities  of  our 
nature,  in  a  communication  with  a  fellow  creature  of  whose 
name  or  condition  he  happened'  to  be  ignorant.  This  reserve 
is  unquestionably  characteristic  of  the  nation  ;  to  what  is  it 
owing ! — modesty  ?  Did  not  national  and  deep  personal 
vanity  appear  at  once  to  refute  the  assertion,  we  might  enter 
into  an  investigation  of  it.  The  good  opinion  of  himself  in 
an  Englishman  is  more  deeply  seated,  though  less  buoyant, 
than  that  of  his  neighbors  ;  in  them  it  is  more  of  manner,  in 
us  more  of  feeling ;  and  the  wound  inflicted  on  the  self-love 
of  the  two  is  very  different.  The  Frenchman  wonders  at  its 
rudeness,  but  soon  forgets  the  charge;  while  an  Englishmai 
broods  over  it  in  silence  and  mortification.  It  is  said  thi 
distinction  in  character  is  owing  to  the  different  estimatioi 
of  principles  and  morals  in  the  two  nations.  The  solidit} 
and  purity  of  our  ethics  and  religious  creeds  may  have 
given  a  superior  tone  to  our  moral  feeling ;  but  has  that  man 
a  tenable  ground  to  value  himself  on  either,  whose  respect 
to  sacred  things  grows  out  of  a  respect  to  himself:  on   the 


PRECAUTION.  28 1 

other  hand,  is  not  humility  the  very  foundation  of  the  real 
Christian?  For  our  part,  we  should  be  glad  to  see  this 
national  reserve  lessened,  if  not  done  entirely  away ;  we 
believe  it  is  founded  in  pride  and  uncharitableness,  and  could 
wish  to  see  men  thrown  accidentally  together  on  the  roads 
of  the  country,  mindful  that  they  are  also  travelling  in  com- 
pany the  highway  of  life,  and  that  the  goal  of  their  destina- 
tion is  equally  attainable  by  all. 

John  Moseley  was  occupied  with  thoughts  very  different 
from  those  of  any  of  his  fellow-travellers,  as  they  proceeded 
rapidly  on  their  route ;  and  it  was  only  when  roused  from 
his  meditations  by  accidentally  coming  in  contact  with  the  hilt 
of  a  sword,  that  he  looked  up,  and  in  the  glimmerings  of  the 
morning's  light,  recognised  the  person  of  Lord  Henry  Sta- 
Dleton  :  their  eyes  met,  and — "  My  lord," — "  Mr.  Moseley," — 
were  repeated  in  mutual  surprise.  John  was  eminently  a 
social  being,  and  he  was  happy  to  find  recourse  against  his 
gloomy  thoughts  in  the  conversation  of  the  dashing  young 
sailor.  The  frigate  of  the,  other  had  entered  the  bay  the 
night  before,  and  he  was  going  to  town  to  the  wedding  of 
his  sister  ;  the  coach  of  his  brother  the  marquis  was  to  meet 
him  about  twenty  miles  from  town,  and  the  ship  was  ordered 
round  to  Yarmouth,  where  he  was  to  rejoin  her. 

"  But  how  are  your  lovely  sisters,  Moseley  ?"  cried  the 
young  sailor  in  a  frank  and  careless  manner.  "  I  should  have 
been  half  in  love  with  one  of  them  if  I  had  time— and 
money ;  both  are  necessary  to  marriage  nowadays,  you 
know." 

"  As  to  time,"  said  John  with  a  laugh,  "  I  believe  that 
may  be  dispensed  with,  though  money  is  certainly  a  different 
thing." 

"  Oh,  time  too,"  replied  his  lordship.  "  I  have  never  time 
enough  to  do  anything  as  it  ought  to  be  done  — always  hurried 


282  PRECAUTION. 

— I  wish  you  could  recommend  to  me  a  lady  who  would 
take  the  trouble  off"  my  hands." 

"  It  might  be  done,"  said  John  with  a  smile,  and  the  image 
cf  Kate  Chatterton  crossed  his  brain,  but  it  was  soon  suc- 
ceeded by  that  of  her  more  lovely  sister.  "  But  how  do  you 
manage  on  board  your  ship — hurried  there  too  ?" 

"  Oh  !  never  there,"   replied  the  captain  gravely  ;  "  that's 
duty  you  know,  and  everything  must  be  regular  of  course 
on  shore  it  is  a  diflferent  thing — there  I  am  only  a  passenger. 

L has  a  charming  society,  Mr.  Moseley — a  week  or  ten 

days  ago  I  was  shooting,  and  came  to  a  beautiful  cottage 
about  five  miles  from  the  village,  that  was  the  abode  of  a 
much  more  beautiful  woman,  a  Spaniard,  a  Mrs.  Fitzgerald 
— I  am  positively  in  love  with  her :  so  soft,  so  polished,  so 
modest " 

"  How  came  you  acquainted  with  her  ?"  inquired  Moseley, 
'nterrupting  him  in  a  little  surprise. 

"  Chance,  my  dear  fellow,  chance.  I  was  thirsty,  and 
approached  for  a  drink  of  water ;  she  was  sitting  in  the  ve- 
randa, and  being  hurried  for  time,  you  know,  it  saved  the 
trouble  of  introduction.  I  fancy  she  is  troubled  with  the 
same  complaint;  for  she  managed  to  get  rid  of  me  in  no 
time,  and  with  a  great  deal  of  pohteness.  I  found  out  her 
name,  however,  at  the  next  house." 

During  this  rattling  talk,  John  had  fixed  his  eyes  on  the 
face  of  one  of  the  passengers  who  sat  opposite  to  him.  Tl  e 
Btranger  appeared  to  be  about  fifty  years  of  age,  stronglv 
pock-marked,  with  a  stifi"  military  air,  and  had  the  dress 
and  exterior  of  a  gentlemen.  His  face  was  much  sun- 
burnt, though  naturally  very  fair ;  and  his  dark  keen  eye 
was  intently  fixed  on  the  sailor  as  he  continued  his  re- 
marks. 

"Do  you  know  such  a  lady,  Moseley  ?" 


PRECAUTION.  283 

*  Yes,''  said  Jolin,  "  though  very  slightly ;  she  is  visited 
l»    one  of  my  sisters,  and " 

**  Yourself,"  cried  Lord  Henry,  with  a  laugh. 

"Myself,  once  or  twice,  ray  lord,  certainly,"  answered 
John,  gravely ;  "  but  a  lady  visited  by  Emily  Moseley  and 
Mrs.  Wilson  is  a  proper  companion  for  any  one.  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald  is  very  retired  in  her  manner  of  living,  and  chance 
made  us  acquainted  ;  but  not  being,  like  your  lordship,  in 
want  of  time,  we  have  endeavored  to  cultivate  her  society, 
as  we  have  found  it  very  agreeable." 

The  countenance,  of  the  stranger  underwent  several 
changes  during  this  speech  of  John's,  and  at  its  close  his  eyes 
rested  on  him  with  a  softer  expression  than  generally  marked 
its  rigid  and  compressed  muscles.  Willing  to  change  a  dis- 
course that  was  growing  too  particular  for  a  mail-coach, 
John  addressed  himself  to  the  opposite  passengers,  while  his 
eye  yet  dwelt  on  the  face  of  the  military  stranger. 

"  We  are  likely  to  have  a  fine  day,  gentlemen."  The 
soldier  bowed  stiffly,  as  he  smiled  his  assent,  and  the  other 
passenger  humbly  answered,  "  Very,  Mr.  John,"  in  the  well 
known  tones  of  honest  Peter  Johnson.  Moseley  started,  as 
he  turned  his  face  for  the  first  time  on  the  lank  figure  which 
was  modestly  compressed  into  the  smallest  possible  compass 
in  the  corner  of  the  coach,  in  a  way  not  to  come  in  contact 
with  any  of  its  neighbors. 

"  Johnson,"  exclaimed  John,  in  astonishment,  "  you  here  ! 
Where  are  you  going — to  London  ?" 

"  To  London,  Mr.  John,"  replied  Peter,  with  a  look  of 
much  importance;  and  then,  by  way  of  silencing  further 
interrogatories,  he  added,  '*  On  my  master's  business,  sir." 

Both  Moseley  and  Lord  Henry  examined  him  closely  ;  the 
former  wondering  what  could  take  the  steward,  at  the  age  of 
seventy,  for  tht>  first  time  in  his  life,  into  the  vortex  of  tha 


284  PRECAUTION. 

capital ;  and  the  latter  in  admiration  at  tlie  figure  and  equip- 
ments of  the  old  man.  Peter  was  in  full  costume,  with  the 
exception  of  the  goggles,  and  was  in  reality  a  subject  to  be 
gazed  at;  but  nothing  relaxed  the  muscles  or  attracted  the 
particular  notice  of  the  soldier,  who,  having  regained  his  set 
form  of  countenance,  appeared  drawn  up  in  himself,  waiting 
patiently  for  the  moment  he  was  expected  to  act.  Nor  did 
he  utter  more  than  as  many  words  in  the  course  of  the  first 
fifty  miles  of  their  journey.  His  dialect  was  singular,  and 
such  as  put  his  hearers  at  a  loss  to  determine  his  country. 
Lord  Henry  stared  at  him  every  time  he  spoke,  as  if  to  say, 
what  countryman  are  you  ?  until  at  length  he  suggested  to 
John  he  was  some  officer  whom  the  downfal  of  Bonaparte 
had  driven  into  retirement. 

"  Indeed,  Moseley,"  he  added,  as  they  were  about  to 
resume  their  carriage  after  a  change  of  horses,  "we  must 
draw  him  out,  and  see  what  he  thinks  of  his  master  now — 
delicately,  you  know."  The  soldier  was,  however,  impervious 
to  his  lordship's  attacks,  until  the  project  was  finally  aban- 
doned in  despair.  As  Peter  was  much  too  modest  to  talk  in 
the  presence  of  Mr.  John  Moseley  and  a  lord,  the  young  men 
had  most  of  the  discourse  to  themselves.  At  a  village  fifteen 
miles  from  London,  a  fashionable  carriage  and  four,  with  the 
coronet  of  a  marquis,  was  in  waiting  for  Lord  Henry.  John 
refused  his  invitation  to  take  a  seat  with  him  to  town ;  for  he 
had  traced  Denbigh  from  stage  to  stage,  and  was  fearful  of 
losing  sight  of  him,  unless  he  persevered  in  the  manner  he 
had  commenced.  Peter  and  he  accordingly  were  put  down 
safely  at  an  inn  in  the  Strand,  and  Moseley  hastened  to  make 
his  inquiries  after  the  object  of  his  pursuit.  Such  a  chaise 
had  arrived  an  hour  before,  and  the  gentleman  had  ordered 
his  trunk  to  a  neighboring  hotel.  After  obtaining  the 
address,  and  ordering  a  hackney  coach,  he  hastened  to  the 


PRECAUTION.  285 

house;  but  on  inquiring  for  Mr.  Denbigh,  to  his  great  mor 
tification  was  told  they  knew  of  no  such  gentleman.  John 
turned  away  from  the  person  he  was  speaking  to  in  visible 
disappointment,  when  a  servant  respectfully  inquired  if  the 

gentleman  had  not  come  from  L ,  in  Norfolk,  that  day. 

"  He  had,"  was  the  reply.  "  Then  follow  me,  sir,  if  you 
please."  They  knocked  at  a  door  of  one  of  the  parlors,  and 
the  servant  entered  :  he  returned,  and  John  was  shown  into 
a  room,  where  Denbigh  was  sitting  with  his  head  resting  on 
his  hand,  and  apparently  musing.  On  seeing  who  required 
admittance,  he  sprang  from  his  seat  and  exclaimed — 

"  Mr.  Moseley !     Do  I  see  aright  ?" 

"  Denbigh,"  cried  John,  stretching  out  his  hand  to  him, 
**  was  this  kind — was  it  like  yourself — to  leave  us  so  unex- 
pectedly, and  for  so  long  a  time,  too,  as  your  note  mentioned?" 

Denbigh  waved  his  hand  to  the  servant  to  retire,  and 
handed  a  chair  to  his  friend. 

"  Mr.  Moseley,"  said  he,  struggling  with  his  feeUngs,  "  you 
appear  ignorant  of  my  pToposals  to  your  sister." 

"  Perfectly,"  answered  the  amazed  John. 

"  And  her  rejection  of  them." 

"  Is  it  possible  !"  cried  the  brother,  pacing  up  and  down 
the  room.  "  I  acknowledge  I  did  expect  you  to  offer,  but 
not  to  be  refused." 

Denbigh  placed  in  the  other  hand  the  letter  of  Emily, 
which,  having  reud,  John  returned,  with  a  sigh.  "  This,  then, 
is  the  reason  you  left  us,"  he  continued.  "  Emily  is  not 
capricious — it  cannot  be  a  sudden  pique — she  means  as  she 
says." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Moseley,"  said  Denbigh,  mournfully ;  **  your 
sister  is  faultless — but  I  am  not  worthy  of  her — my  decep- 
tion"— here  the  door  again  opened  to  the  admission  of  Peter 
Johnson.     Both  the  gentlemen  rose  at  this  sudden  interrup. 


286  PRECAUTION. 

tion,  and  the  steward  advancing  to  the  table,  once  more 
produced  the  formidable  pocket-book,  the  spectacles,  and  a 
letter.  He  ran  over  its  direction — "For  George  Denbigh, 
Esquire,  London,  by  the  hands  of  Peter  Johnson,  with  care 
and  speed."  After  the  observance  of  these  preliminaries,  he 
delivered  the  missive  to  its  lawful  owner,  who  opened  it,  and 
apidly  perused  its  contents.  Denbigh  was  much  affected 
tvith  whatever  the  latter  might  be,  and  kindly  took  the 
steward  by  the  hand,  as  he  thanked  him  for  this  renewed 
instance  of  the  interest  he  took  in  him.  If  he  would  tell  him 
where  a  letter  would  find  him  in  the  morning,  he  would  send 
a  reply  to  the  one  he  had  received.  Peter  gave  his  address, 
but  appeared  unwilling  to  go,  until  assured  again  and  again 
that  the  answer  would  be  infallibly  sent.  Taking  a  small 
account-book  out  of  his  pocket,  and  referring  to  its  contents, 
the  steward  said,  "  Master  has  with  Coutts  &  Co.  £7,000 ; 
in  the  bank,  £5,000.  It  can  be  easily  done,  sir,  and  never 
felt  by  us."  Denbigh  smiled  in  reply,  as  he  assured  the 
steward  he  would  take  proper  notice  of  his  master's  offers  in 
his  own  answer.  The  door  again  opened,  and  the  military 
stranger  was  admitted  to  their  presence.  He  bowed,  appeared 
not  a  little  surprised  to  find  two  of  his  mail-coach  companions 
there,  and  handed  Denbigh  a  letter,  in  quite  as  formal, 
althoucrh  in  a  more  silent  manner  than  the  steward.  The 
soldier  was  invited  to  be  seated,  and  the  letter  was  perused 
with  an  evident  curiosity  on  the  part  of  Denbigh.  As  soon 
as  the  latter  ended  it,  he  addressed  the  stranger  in  a  language 
which  John  rightly  judged  to  be  Spanish,  and  Peter  took  to 
be  Greek.  For  a  few  minutes  the  conversation  was  main- 
tained between  them  with  great  earnestness,  his  fellow 
travellers  marvelling  much  at  the  garrulity  of  the  soldier 
however,  the  stranger  soon  rose  to  retire,  when  the  door 
was  thrown  open  for  the  fourth  time,  and  a  voice  cried  out, 


PRECAUTION.  287 

*'  Here  I  am,  George,  safe  and  sound — ready  to  kiss  tbe 
bridesmaids,  if  they  will  let  me — and  I  can  find  time — bless 
me,  Moseley  ! — old  marling-spike  ! — general ! — whew,  where 
is  the  coachman  and  guard  ?" — it  was  Lord  Henry  Stapleton. 
The  Spaniard  bowed  again  in  silence  and  withdrew,  while 
Denbigh  threw  open  the  door  of  an  adjoining  room  and 
excused  himself,  as  he  desired  Lord  Henry  to  walk  in  there 
f  r  a  few  minutes. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  cried  the  heedless  sailor,  as  he  com- 
plied, "  we  might  as  w^ell  have  stuck  together,  Moseley  ;  we 
Avere  bound  to  one  port,  it  seems." 

"  You  know  Lord  Henry  ?"  said  John,  as  he  withdrew. 

"  Yes,"  said  Denbigh,  and  he  again  required  his  address 
of  Peter,  which  having  been  given,  the  steward  departed. 
The  conversation  between  the  two  friends  did  ,not  return  to 
the  course  it  was  taking  when  they  were  interrupted,  as 
Moseley  felt  a  delicacy  in  making  any  allusion  to  the  pro- 
bable cause  of  his  sister's  refusal.  He  had,  however,  begun 
to  hope  it  was  not  irremovable,  and  with  the  determination 
of  renewing  his  visit  in  the  morning,  he  took  his  leave,  to 
allow  Denbigh  to  attend  to  his  other  guest.  Lord  Henry 
Stapleton. 

About  twelve  on  the  following  morning,  John  and  the 
steward  met  at  the  door  of  the  hotel  where  Denbigh  lodged, 
in  quest  of  the  same  person.  The  latter  held  in  his  hand 
the  answer  to  his  master's  letter,  but  wished  particularly  to 
8  e  its  writer.  On  inquiring,  to  their  mutual  surprise  they 
were  told,  that  the  gentleman  had  left  there  early  in  the 
morning,  having  discharged  his  lodgings,  and  that  they  were 
unable  to  say  whither  he  had  gone.  To  hunt  for  a  man  with- 
out a  clew,  in  the  city  of  London,  is  usually  time  misspent. 
Of  this  Moseley  was  perfectly  sensible,  and  disregarding  a  pro- 
position of  Peter's,  he  returned  to  his  own  lodgings.    The  pro- 


288  PRECAUTION. 

posal  of  the  steward,  if  it  did  not  do  much  credit  to  liia 
sagacity,  was  much  in  favor  of  his  perseverance  and  enter- 
prise. It  was  no  other  than  that  John  should  take  one  side 
of  the  street,  and  he  the  other,  in  order  to  inquire  at  every 
house  in  the  place,  until  the  fugitive  was  discovered.  "  Sir," 
said  Peter,  with  great  simplicity,  "  when  our  neighbor  White 
lost  his  little  girl,  this  was  the  way  we  found  her,  aJthoug 

we  went  nearly  through  L before  we  succeeded,   Mr. 

John."  Peter  was  obliged  to  abandon  this  expedient  for 
want  of  an  associate,  and  as  no  message  was  left  at  the 
lodgings  of  Moseley,  he  started  with  a  heavy  heart  on  his 
return  to  Benfield  Lodge.  But  Moseley's  zeal  was  too 
warm  in  the  cause  of  his  friend,  notwithstanding  his  un 
merited  desertion,  to  discontinue  the  search  for  him.  He 
sought  out  tl>e  town  residence  of  the  Marquess  of  Eltring- 
ham,  the  brother  of  Lord  Henry,  and  was  told  that  both 
the  Marquess  and  his  brother  had  left  town  early  that 
morning  for  his  seat  in  Devonshire,  to  attend  the  wedding 
of  their  sister. 

"  Did  they  go  alone  ?"  asked  John  musing. 

"  There  were  two  chaises,  the  Marquess's  and  his  GraceV" 

"  Who  was  his  Grace  ?"  inquired  John. 

"  Why  the  Duke  of  Derwent,  to  be  sure." 

"  And  the  Duke  ?— was  he  alone  ?" 

"  There  was  a  gentleman  with  his  Grace,  but  they  did  not 
know  his  name." 

As  nothing  further  could  be  learnt,  John  withdrew.  A 
good  deal  of  irritation  mixed  with  the  vexation  of  Moseley 
at  his  disappointment ;  for  Denbigh,  he  thought,  too  evidently 
wished  to  avoid  him.  That  he  was  the  companion  of  his 
kinsman,  the  Duke  of  Derwent,  he  had  now  no  doubt,  and 
he  entirely  relinquished  all  expectations  of  finding  him  iu 
London  or  its  environs.     While  retracing  his  steps  in  no 


PRECAUTION.  289 

enviable  state  of  mind  to  his  lodgings,  with  a  resolution  of 

retui-ning   immediately  to    L ,   his    arm  was  suddenly 

taken  by  his  friend  Chatterton.  If  any  man  could  have 
consoled  John  at  that  moment,  it  was  the  Baron.  Questions 
and  answers  were  rapidly  exchanged  between  them  ;  and 
with  increased  satisfaction,  John  learnt  that  in  the  next  square, 
he  could  have  the  pleasure  of  paying  his  respects  to  his 
kinswoman,  the  Dowager  Lady  Chatterton,  and  her  two 
daughters.  Chatterton  inquired  warmly  after  Emily,  and  in 
a  particularly  kind  manner  concerning  Mr.  Denbigh,  hearing 
with  undisguised  astonishment  the  absence  of  the  latter  from 
the  Moseley  family. 

Lady  Chatterton  had  disciplined  her  feelings  upon  the 
subject  of  Grace  and  John  into  such  a  state  of  subo^rdination^ 
thatihe  fastidious  jealousy  of  the  young  man  now  found  no 
ground  of  alarm  in  anything  she  said  or  did.  It  cannot  be 
denied  the  Dowager  was  delighted  to  see  him  again  ;  and 
if  it  were  fair  to  draw  any  conclusions  from  coloring,  pal 
pitations,  and  other  such  little  accompaniments  of  femah 
feeling,  Grace  was  not  excessively  sorry.  It  is  true,  it  wa* 
the  best  possible  opportunity  to  ascertain  all  about  her  friend 
Emily  and  the  rest  of  the  family  ;  and  Grace  was  extremely 
happy  to  have  intelligence  of  their  general  welfare  so  direct 
as  was  afforded' by  this  visit  of  Mr.  Moseley.  Grace  looked  all 
she  expressed,  and  possibly  a  little  more ;  and  John  thought 
he  looked  very  beautiful. 

There  was  present  an  elderly  gentleman,  of  apparently 
indifferent  health,  although  his  mannei-s  were  extremely 
lively,  and  his  dress  particularly  studied.  A  few  minutes 
observation  convinced  Moseley  this  gentleman  was  a^  candi- 
date for  the  favor  of  Kate  ;  and  a  game  of  chess  being  soon 
introduced,  he  also  saw  he  was  one  thought  worthy  of 
peculiar  care  and  attention.    He  had  been  introduced  to 

o     • 


290  PRECAUTION. 

him  as  Lord  Herriefield,  and  soon  discovered  by  his  conver- 
sation that  he  was  a  peer  who  promised  little  towards 
rendering  the  house  of  incurables  more  convalescent  than  it 
was  before  his  admission.  Chatterton  mentioned  him  as  a 
distant  connexion  of  his  mother ;  a  gentleman  who  had 
lately  returned  from  filling  an  official  situation  in  the  East 
Indies,  to  take  his  seat  among  the  lords  by  the  death  of  his 
brother.  He  was  a  bachelor,  and  reputed  rich,  much  of  his 
wealth  being  personal  property,  acquired  by  himself  abroad. 
The  dutiful  son  might  have  added,  if  respect  and  feeling  had 
not  kept  him  silent,  that  his  off'ei's  of  settling  a  large  jointure 
upon  his  elder  sister  had  been  accepted,  and  that  the  following 
week  was  to  make  her  the  bride  pf  the  emaciated  debauchee 
who  now  sat  by  her  side.  He  might  also  have  said,  that 
when  the  proposition  was  made  to  himself  and  Grace,*  both 
had  shrunk  from  the  alliance  with  disgust :  and  that  both 
had  united  in  humble  though  vain  remonstrances  to  their 
mother,  against  the  sacrifice,  and  in  petitions  to  their  sister, 
that  she  would  not  be  accessary  to  her  own  misery.  There 
was  no  pecuniary  sacrifice  they  would  not  make  to  her,  to 
avert  such  a  connexion ;  but  all  was  fruitless — Kate  was 
resolved  to  be  a  viscountess,  and  her  mother  was  equally 
determined  that  she  should  be  rich. 


PRBCAUTIOK.  29 1 


CHAPTEE  XXX. 

A  DAY  elapsed  betv^een  the  departure  of  Denbigh  and  th 
reappearance  of  Emily  amongst  her  friends.  An  indifferen 
observer  would  have  thought  her  much  graver  and  less  ani-. 
mated  than  usual.  A  loss  of  the  rich  color  which  ordinarily- 
glowed  on  her  healthful  cheek  might  be  noticed ;  but  the 
placid  sweetness  and  graceful  composure  which  regulated  her 
former  conduct  pervaded  all  she  did  or  uttered.  Not  so 
with  Jane  :  her  pride  had  suffered  more  than  her  feelings — 
her  imaginatien  had  been  more  deceived  than  her  judgment 
— and  although  too  well  bred  and  soft  by  nature  to  become 
rude  or  captious"",  she  was  changed  from  a  communicative,  to 
a  reserved  ;  from  a  confiding,  to  a  suspicious  companion. 
Her  parents  noticed  this  alteration  Avith  an  uneasiness  that 
was  somewhat  embittered  by  the  consciousness  of  a  neglect 
of  some  of  those  duties  that  experience  now  seemed  to  indi- 
cate, could  never  be  forgotten  with  impunity. 

Francis  and  Clara  had  arrived  from  their  northern  tour,  so 
happy  in  each  other,  and  so  contented  with  their  lot,  that  it 
required  some  little  exercise  of  fortitude  in  both  Lady  Mose- 
ley  and  her  daughters,  to  expel  unpleasant  recollections  while 
they  contemplated  it.  Their  relation  of  the  little  incidents 
of  their  tour  had,  however,  an  effect  to  withdraw  the  atten- 
tion of  their  friends  in  some  degree  from  late  occurrences; 
and  a  melancholy  and  sympathizing  kind  of  association  had 
taken  place  of  the  unbounded  confidence  and  gaiety  ;  which 
so  lately  prevailed  at  Benfield  Lodge.  Mr.  Benfield  mingled 
with  his  solemnity  an  air  of  mystery  ;  and  he  was  frequently 


292  PRECAUTION. 

noticed  by  his  relatives  looking  over  old  papers,  and  was 
apparently  employed  in  preparations  that  indicated  move- 
ments of  more  than  usual  importance. 

The  family  were  collected  in  one  of  the  parlors  on  an  ex- 
tremely unpleasant  day,  the  fourth  after  the  departure  of 
John,  when  the  thin  person  of  Johnson  stalked  in  amongst 
them.  All  eyes  were  fixed  on  him  in  expectation  of  what  he 
had  to  communicate,  and  all  apparently  dreading  to  break 
the  silence,  from  an  apprehension  that  his  communication 
would  be  unpleasant.  In  the  meantime  Peter,  who  had 
respectfully  left  his  hat  at  the  door,  proceeded  to  uncase  his 
body  fiom  the  multiplied  defences  be  had  taken  against  the 
inclemency  .of  the  weather.  His  master  stood  erect,  with  an 
outstretched  hand,  ready  to  receive  the  reply  to  his  epistle ; 
and  Johnson  having  liberated  his  body  from  thraldom,  pro- 
duced the  black  leathern  pocket-book,  and  from  its  contents 
a  letter,  when  he  read  aloud — Roderic  Befifield,  Esq.,  Ben- 
field  Lodge,  Norfolk ;  favored  by  Mr. — here  Peter's  modesty 
got  the  better  of  his  method  ;  he  had  never  been  called  Mr. 
Johnson  by  anybody,  old  or  young  ;  all  knew  him  in  that 
neighborhood  as  Peter  Johnson — and  he  had  very  nearly 
been  guilty  of  the  temerity  of  arrogating  to  himself  another 
title  in  the  presence  of  those  he  most  respected  :  a  degree  of 
self-elevation  from  which  he  escaped  with  the  loss  of  a  small 
piece  of  his  tongue.  Mr.  Benfield  took  the  letter  with  an 
eagerness  that  plainly  indicated  the  deep  interest  he  took  in 
its  contents,  while  Emily,  with  a  tremulous  voice  and  flushed 
cheek,  approached  the  steward  with  a  glass  of  wine. 
*'  Peter,"  she  said,  "  take  this  ;  it  will  do  you  good." 
"  Thank  you.  Miss  Emma,"  said  Peter,  casting  his  eyes 
from  hep  to  his  master,  as  the  latter,  having  finished  his  letter, 
exclaimed,  with  a  strange  mixture  of  consideration  and  dift- 
appointment — 


PRECAUTION".  293 

"  Johnson,  you  must  change  your  clothes  immediately,  or 
you  will  take  cold :  you  look  now  like  old  Moses,  the  Jew 
beggar." 

Peter  sighed  heavily  at  this  comparison,  and  saw  in  it  a 
confirmation  of  his  fears ;  for  he  well  knew,  that  to  his  being 
the  bearer  of  unpleasant  tidings  was  he  indebted  for  a  resem- 
blance to  anything  unpleasant  to  his  master,  and  Moses  was 
the  old  gentleman's  aversion. 

The  baronet  now  followed  his  uncle  from  the  room  to  his 
library,  entering  it  at  the  same  moment  with  the  stewaid, 
who  had  been  summoned  by  his  master  to  an  audience. 

Pointing  to  a  chair  for  his  nephew,  Mr.  Benfield  com- 
•menced  the  discourse  with  saying, 

"  Peter,  you  saw  Mr.  Denbigh  ;  how  did  he  look  ?" 

"  As  usual,  master,"  said  Peter,  laconically,  still  piqued  at 
being  likened  to  old  Moses. 

"  And  what  did  he  say  to  the  offer  1  did  he  not  make  any 
comments  on  it?  He  was  not  offended  at  it,  I  hope,"  de- 
manded Mr.  Benfield. 

"  He  said  nothing  but  what  he  has  written  to  your  honor,** 
replied  the  steward,  losing  a  little  of  his  constramed  manner 
in  real  good  feeling  to  his  master. 

"  May  I  ask  what  the  offer  was  ?"  inquired  Sir  Edward. 

Mr.  Benfield  regarding  him  a  moment  in  silence,  said,  "  Cer- 
tainly, you  are  nearly  concerned  in  his  welfare ;  your  daughter" 
— the  old  man  stopped,  turned  to  his  letter- book,  and  handed 
the  baionet  a  copy  of  the  epistle  he  had  sent  to  Denbigh.  It 
read  as  follows : 

*'  Dear  Friend  Mr.  Denbigh, 

"  I  have  thought  a  great  deal  on  the  reason  of  your  sudd'Cn 
departure  from  a  house  I  had  begun  to  hope  you  thought 
your  own ;  and  bv  calling  to  mind  my  own  feehngs  when 


294  PRECAUTION-. 

Lady  Juliana  became  the  heiress  to  her  nephew's  estate,  take 
it  for  granted  you  have  been  governed  by  the  same  senti- 
ments ;  which  1  know  both  by  my  own  experience  and  that 
of  the  bearer,  Peter  Johnson,  is  a  never-failing  accompani- 
ment of  pure  affection.  Yes,  my  dear  Denbigh,  I  honor 
your  dehcacy  in  not  wishing  to  become  indebted  to  a  stran- 
ger, as  it  were,  for  the  money  on  which  you  subsist,  and  that 
stranger  your  wife — who  ought  in  reason  to  look  up  to  you, 
instead  of  your  looking  up  to  her ;  which  was  the  true  cause 
Lord  Gosford  would  not  marry  the  countess — on  account  of 
her  great  wealth,  as  he  assured  me  himself ;  notwithstanding, 
envious  people  said  it  was  because  her  ladyship  loved  Mr 
Chaworth  better  :  so  in  order  to  remove  these  impediments, 
of  delicacy,  I  have  to  make  three  propositions,  namely,  that  I 
bring  you  into  parliament  the  next  election  for  my  own  bo- 
rough— that  you  take  possession  of  the  lodge  the  day  you 
marry  Emmy,  while  I  will  live,  for  the  little  time  I  have  to 
stay  here,  in  the  large  cottage  built  by  my  uncle — and  thatj 
give  you  your  legacy  of  ten  thousand  pounds  down,  to  pre- 
vent trouble  hereafter. 

"  As  I  know  nothing  but  delicacy  has  driven  you  away 
from  us,  I  make  no  doubt  you  will  now  find  all  objections 
removed,  and  that  Peter  will  bring  back  the  joyful  intelli- 
gence of  your  return  to  us,  as  soon  as  the  business  you  left 
us  on,  is  completed. 

*'  Your  uncle,  that  is  to  be, 

"  RODERIC    BeNFIELD." 

**  N.  B.  As  Johnson  is  a  stranger  to  the  ways  of  the 
town,  I  wish  you  to  advise  his  inexperience,  particularly 
against  the  arts  of  designing  women,  Peter  being  a  man  of 
considerable  estate,  and  great  modesty." 

"There,   nephew,"    cried   Mr,    Renfield,   as   the  baronet 


PRECAUTION.  295 

limshed  reading  the  letter  aloud,  "  is  it  not  unreasonable  to 
refuse  my  oflfers  ?    Now  read  his  answer." 

"  Words  are  wanting  to  express  the  sensations  which  have 
been  excited  by  Mr.  Benfield's  letter ;  but  it  would  be  impos- 
sible for  any  man  to  be  so  base  as  to  Avail  himself  of  such 
liberaUty:  the  recollection  of  it,  together  with  that  of  his 
many  virtues,  will  long  continue  deeply  impressed  on  the 
heart  of  him,  whom  Mr.  Benfield  would,  if  within  the  power 
of  man,  render  the  happiest  amongst  human  beings." 

The  steward  Hstened  eagerly  to  this  answer,  but  after  it 
was  done  he  was  as  much  at  a  loss  to  know  its  contents  a»s 
before  its  perusal.  He  knew  it  was  unfavorable  to  their 
wishes,  but  could  not  comprehend  its  meaning  or  expressions, 
and  immediately  attributed  their  ambiguity  to  the  strange 
conference  he  had  witnessed  between  Denbigh  and  the  miU- 
tary  stranger. 

'*  Master,"  exclaimed  Peter,  with  something  of  the  elation 
of  a  discoverer,  "I  know  the  cause,  it  shows  itself  in  the 
letter :  there  was  a  man  talking  Greek  to  him  while  he  was 
reading  your  letter." 

"  Greek !"  exclaimed  Sir  Edward  in  astonishment. 

"  Greek !"  said  the  uncle.  "  Lord  Gosford  read  Greek  ; 
but  I  believe  never  conversed  in  that  lano^uag-e." 

"Yes,  Sir  Edward— yes,  your  honor — pure  wild  Greek; 
.t  must  have  been  something  of  that  kind,"  added  Peter,  with 
positiveness, '' that  would  make  a  man  refuse  such  offers  — 
Miss  Emmy — the  lodge — £10,000  !" — and  the  steward  shook 
his  head  with  much  satisfaction  at  having  discovered  the 
cause. 

Sir  Edward  smiled  at  the  simplicity  of  Johnson,  but  dis 
liking  the  idea  attached  to  the  refusal  of  his  daughter,  said, 


296  PRECAUTION. 

"  Perhaps,  after  all,  uncle,  there  has  been  some  misunder- 
Btanding  between  Emily  and  Denbigh,  which  may  have  driven 
him  from  us  so  suddenly." 

Mr.  Benfield  and  his  steward  exchanged  looks,  and  a  new 
idea  broke  upon  them  at  the  mstant.  They  had  both  suf- 
fered in  that  way ;  and  after  all  it  might  prove  that  Emily  was 
the  one  whose  taste  or  feelings  had  subverted  their  schemes 
The  impression,  once  made,  soon  became  strong,  and  the  party 
separated ;  the  master  thinking  alternately  on  Lady  Juliana 
and  his  niece,  while  the  man,  after  heaving  one  heavy  sigh  to 
the  memory  of  Patty  Steele,  proceeded  to  the  usual  occupa- 
tions of  his  office. 

.  Mrs.  Wilson  thinking  a  ride  would  be  of  service  to  Emily, 
and  having  the  fullest  confidence  in  her  self-command  and 
resignation,  availed  herself  of  a  fine  day  to  pay  a  visit  to  theii 
friend  in  the  cottasfe.  Mrs.  Fitzg-erald  received  them  in  her 
usual  manner,  but  a  single  glance  of  her  eye  sufficed  to  show 
the  aunt  that  she  noticed  the  altered  appearance  of  Emily 
and  her  manners,  although  without  knowing  its  true  reason, 
which  she  did  not  deem  it  prudent  to  explain.  Julia  handed 
her  friend  a  note  which  she  said  she  had  received  the  day 
before,  and  desired  their  counsel  how  to  proceed  in  the  pre- 
sent emergency.  As  Emily  was  to  be  made  acquainted  with 
its  contents,  her  aunt  read  it  aloud  as  follows : 

"My  Dear  Niece, 

"  Your  father  and  myself  had  been  induced  to  think  you 
were  leadings  a  diso:raceful  hfe,  with  the  officer  your  husband 
had  consigned  you  to  the  care  of;  for  hearing  of  your  capti- 
vity, I  had  arrived  with  a  band .  of  Guerillas,  on  the  spot 
where  you  were  rescued,  early  the  next  morning,  and  *hero 
learnt  of  the  peasants  your  misfortunes  and  retreat.  The 
enemy  pressed  us  too  much  to  allow  us  to  deviate  from  our 


PRECAUTION.  297 

route  at  the  time ;  but  natural  affection  and  the  wishes  of 
your  father  have  led  me  to  make  a  journey  to  England,  in 
order  to  satisfy  our  doubts  as  regards  your  conduct.  I  have 
seen  you,  heard  your  character  in  the  neighborhood,  and  after 
much  and  long  search  have  found  out  the  officer,  and  am 
satisfied,  that  so  far  as  concerns  your  deportment,  you  are  an 
injured  woman.  I  have  therefore  to  propose  to  you,  on  ray 
own  behalf,  and  that  of  the  Conde,  that  you  adopt  the  faith 
of  your  country,  and  return  with  me  to  the  arms  of  your 
parent,  whose  heiress  you  will  be,  and  whose  life  you  may 
be  the  means  of  prolonging.  Direct  your  answer  to  me,  to 
the  care  of  our  ambassador ;  and  as  you  decide,  I  am  your 
mother's  brother,  Louis  M'Carthy  y  Harrison." 

"  On  what  point  do  you  wish  my  advice  ?'*  said  Mrs.  Wil- 
son, kindly,  after  she  had  finished  reading  the  letter,  "  and 
when  do  you  expect  to  see  your  uncle  ?" 

"  Would  you  have  me  accept  the  offer  of  my  father,  dear 
madam,  or  am  I  to  remain  separated  from  him  for  the  short 
residue  of  his  life?" 

Mrs.  Fitzgerald  was  aflfected  to  tears,  as  she  asked  this 
question,  and  waited  her  answer,  in  silent  dread  of  its 
nature. 

•'  Is  the  condition  of  a  change  of  religion,  an  immovable 
one  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Wilson,  in  a  thoughtful  manner. 

"  Oh  !  doubtless,"  replied  Julia,  shuddering  ;  "  but  I  am 
deservedly  punished  for  my  early  disobedience,  and  bow  in 
submission  to  the  will  of  Providence.  I  feel  now  all  that 
horror  of  a  change  of  my  religion,  I  once  only  affected  :  I 
must  live  and  die  a  Protestant,  madam." 

"  Certainly,  I  hope  so,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson ;  "  I 
am  not  a  bigot,  and  think  it  unfortunate  you  were  not,  in 
your  circumstances,  bred  a  pious  Catholic.  It  would  have 
13* 


298  PRECAUTION. 

saved  you  much  misery,  and  might  have  rendered  the  clos« 
of  your  father's  life  more  happy  ;  but  as  your  present  creed 
embraces  doctrines  too  much  at  variance  with  the  Romish 
church  to  renounce  the  one  or  to  adopt  the  other,  with  your 
riews,  it  will  be  impossible  to  change  your  church  without 
committing  a  heavy  offence  against  the  opinions  and  practices 
of  every  denomination  of  Christians.  I  should  hope  a  proper 
representation  of  this  to  your  uncle  would  have  its  weight,  or 
they  might  be  satisfied  with  your  being  a  Christian,  without 
becoming  3  Catholic." 

"  Ah !  my  dear  madam,"  answered  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  des- 
pairingly, "  you  little  know  the  opinions  v/f  my  countrymen 
on  this  subject." 

*'  Surely,  surely,"  cried  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  parental  affection  is 
a  stronger  feeling  than  bigotry." 

Mrs.  Fitzgerald  shook  her  head  in  a  manner  which  bespoke 
both  her  apprehensions  and  her  filial  regard. 

"Julia  ought  not,  must  not,  desert  her  father,  dear 
aunt,"  said  Emily,  her  face  glowing  with  the  ardency  of  her 
feelings. 

"And  ought  she  to  desert  her  heavenly  Father,  my  child  ?" 
asked  the  aunt,  mildly. 

"  Are  the  duties  conflicting,  dearest  aunt  ?" 

"  The  Conde  makes  them  so.  Juha  is,  I  trust,  in  sincerity 
a  Christian,  and  with  what  face  can  she  offer  up  her  daily 
petitions  to  her  Creator,  while  she  wears  a  mask  to  her 
earthly  father ;  or  how  can  she  profess  to  honor  doctrines 
that  she  herself  believes  to  be  false,  or  practise  customs  she 
thinks  improper  ?" 

.    "  Never,  never,"  exclaimed  Julia,  with  fervor ;  "  the  strug- 
gle is  dreadftil,  but  I  submit  to  the  greater  duty." 

"  And  you  decide  rightly,  my  friend,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson, 
soothingly;  "but  you  need  relax  no  efforts  to  convince  the 


PRECAUTION-.  299 

Conde  of  your  wishes :  truth  and  nature  will  finally  con- 
quer." 

"  Ah !"  cried  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  "  the  sad  consequences  of 
one  false  step  in  early  life !" 

"  Rather,"  added  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  the  sad  consequences  of 
one  false  step  in  generations  gone  by.  Had  your  grand- 
mother listened  to  the  voice  of  prudence  and  duty,  she 
jnever  would  have  deserted  her  parents  for  a  comparative 
stranger,  and  entailed  upon  her  descendants  a  train  of  evils 
.which  yet  exist  in  your  person." 

"  It  will  be  a  sad  blow  to  my  poor  uncle  too,"  said  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald,  "  he  who  once  loved  me  so  much." 

"  When  do  you  expect  to  see  him  ?"  inquired  Emily. 

Julia  informed  them  she  expected  him  hourly ;  as,  fearful  a 
written  statement  of  her  views  would  drive  him  from  the 
country  witlfbut  paying  her  a  visit  before  he  departed,  she 
had  earnestly  entreated  him  to  see  her  without  delay. 

On  taking  their  leave,  the  ladies  promised  to  obey  her 
summons  whenever  called  to  meet  the  general,  as  Mrs. 
Wilson  thought  she  might  be  better  able  to  give  advice  to  a 
friend,  by  knowing  more  of  the  character  of  her  relatives, 
than  she  could  do  with  her  present  information. 

One  day  intervened,  and  it  was  spent  in  the  united  society 
of  Lady  Moseley  and  her  daughters,  while  Sir  Edward  and 
Francis  rode  to  a  neighboring  town  on  business  ;  and  on 
the  succeeding,  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  apprised  them  of  the  an-ival 
(^f  General  M'Carthy.  Immediately  after  breakfast,  Mi-s. 
Wilson  and  Emily  drove  to  the  cottage,  the  aunt  both 
wishuig  the  latter  as  a  companion  in  her  ride,  and  beReving 
the  excitement  would  have  a  tendency  to  prevent  her  niece 
from  indulging  in  reflections,  alike  dangerous  to  her  peacy 
of  mind  and  at  variance  with  her  duties. 

Our  readers  have   probabh    anticipated,  that  the  stage 


300  PRECAUTION. 

companion  of  John  Moseley  was  tlie  Spanish  general,  who 
had  just  been  making  those  inquiries  into  the  manner  of  his 
niece's  Hving  which  terminated  so  happily  in  her  acquittal. 
With  that  part  of  her  history  which  relates  to  the  injurious 
attempts  on  her  before  she  arrived  at  Lisbon,  he  appears  to 
have  been  ignorant,  or  his  interview  with  Denbigh  might 
have  terminated  very  differently  from  the  manner  already 
related. 

A  description  of  the  appearance  of  the  gentleman  present- 
ed to  Mrs.  Wilson  is  unnecessary,  as  it  has  been  given  already  ; 
and  the  discerning  matron  thought  she  read  through  the 
rigid  and  set  features  of  the  soldier,  a  shade  of  kinder 
feeHngs,  which  might  be  wrought  into  an  advantageous 
intercession  on  behalf  of  Julia.  The  General  was  evidently 
endeavoring  to  keep  his  feelings  within  due  bounds,  before 
the  decision  of  his  niece  might  render  it  proper  for  him  to 
indulge  in  that  aflfection  for  her,  which  his  eye  plainly  show- 
ed existed  under  the  cover  of  his  assumed  manner. 

It  was  an  effort  of  great  fortitude  on  the  part  of  Julia  to 
acquaint  her  uncle  with  her  resolution  ;  but  as  it  must  be 
done,  she  seized  a  moment  after  Mrs.  Wilson  had  at  some 
length  defended  her  adhering  to  her  present  faith,  until 
religiously  impressed  with  its  errors,  to  inform  him  such  was 
her  unalterable  resolution.  He  heard  her  patiently,  and 
without  anger,  but  in  visible  surprise.  He  had  construed 
her  summons  to  her  house  into  a  measure  preparatory  to 
accepting  his  conditions  ;  yet  he  betrayed  no  emotion,  after 
the  first  expression  of  his  wonder :  he  told  her  distinctly,  a 
renuncmtion  of  her  heresy  was  the  only  condition  on  which 
Ler  father  would  own  her  either  as  his  heiress  or  his  child. 
Julia  deeply  regretted  the  decision,  but  was  firm  ;  and  her 
friends  left  her  to  enjoy  uninterruptedly  for  one  day,  the 
society  of  so  near  a  relative.     During  this  day  every  doubt 


PllECAUTlON.  301 

4 

as  to  the  propriety  of  her  conduct,  if  any  yet  remained,  was 
removed  by  a  relation  of  her  little  story  to  her  uncle ;  and 
after,  it  was  completed,  he  expressed  great  uneasiness  to 
get  to  London  again,  in  order  to  meet  a  gentleman  he  had 
seen  there,  under  a  different  impression  as  to  his  merits, 
than  what  now  appeared  to  be  just.  Who  the  gentleman 
was,  or  what  these  impressions  were,  Julia  was  left  to  con- 
jecture, taciturnity  being  a  favorite  property  in  the 
general. 


302  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

The  -sun  had  just  risen  on  one  of  the  loveliest  vales  of 
Caernarvonshire,  as  a  travelling-  chaise  and  six  swept  up  to 
the  door  of  a  princely  mansion,  so  situated  as  to  command  a 
prospect  of  the  fertile  and  extensive  domains,  the  rental  of 
which  filled  the  cofi:ers  of  its  rich  owner,  having  a  beautiful 
view  of  the  Irish  channel  in  the  distance. 

Everything  around  this  stately  edifice  bespoke  the  magni- 
ficence of  its  ancient  possessors  and  the  taste  of  its  present 
master.  It  was  irregular,  but  built  of  the  best  materials, 
and  in  the  tastes  of  the  diff'erent  ages  in  which  its  various 
parts  had  been  erected ;  and  now  in  the  nineteenth  century 
it  preserved  the  baronial  grandeur  of  the  thirteenth,  mingled 
with  the  comforts  of  this  later  period. 

The  lofty  turrets  of  its  towers  were  tipt  with  the  golden 
light  of  the  sun,  and  the  neighboring  peasantry  had  com- 
menced their  daily  labors,  as  the  different  attendants  of  the 
equipage  we  have  mentioned  collected  around  it  at  the 
great  entrance  to  the  building.  The  beautiful  black  horses, 
with  coats  as  shining  as  the  polished  leather  with  which 
they  were  caparisoned,  the  elegant  and  fashionable  finish  of 
the  vehicle,  with  its  numerous  grooms,  postillions,  and  foot- 
men, all  wearing  the  livery  of  one  master,  gave  evidence  of 
wealth  and  rank. 

In  attendance  there  were  four  outriders,  walking  leisurely 
about,  awaiting  the  appearance  of  those  for  whose  comforts 
and  pleasures  they  were  kept  to  contribute;  while  a  fifth, 
who,  Wh'  the  others,  was  equipped  with  a  horse,  appeared  to 


PRECA['TIOX,  303 

bear  a  doubtful  station.  Tlie  form  of  the  latter  was  athletic, 
and  apparently  drilled  into  a  severer  submission  than  could 
be  seen  in  the  movements  of  the  Hveried  attendants:  his 
dress  was  peculiar,  being  neither  quite  menial  nor  quite  mili- 
tary, but  partaking  of  both  chai-acters.  His  horse  was  hea- 
vier and  better  managed  than  those  of  the  others,  and  by  its 
side  was  a  charger,  that  was  prepared  for  the  use  of  no 
pommon  equestrian.  Both  were  coal-black,  as  were  all  the 
others  of  the  cavalcade  ;  but  the  pistols  of  the  two  latter,  and 
housings  of  their  saddles,  bore  the  aspect  of  use  and  elegance 
united. 

The  postilhons  were  mounted,  listlessly  waiting  the  pleasure 
of  their  superiors  ;  when  the  laughs  and  jokes  of  the  menials 
were  instantly  succeeded  by  a  respectful  and  profound  silence, 
as  a  gentleman  and  lady  appeared  on  the  portico  of  the 
building.  The  former  was  a  young  man  of  commanding  sta- 
ture and  genteel  appearance  ;  and  his  air,  although  that  of 
one  used  to  command,  was  softened  by  a  character  of  bene- 
volence and  gentleness,  that  might  be  rightly  supposed  to  give 
birth  to  the  willing  alacrity  with  which  all  his  requests  or 
orders  were  attended  to. 

The  lady  was  also  young,  and  resembled  her  companion 
both  in  features  and  ex})ression,  for  both  were  noble,  both 
were  handsome.  The  former  was  attired  for  the  road ;  the 
latter  had  thrown  a  shawl  around  her  elegant  form,  and  by 
hei*  morning  dress  showed  that  a  sepai'ation  of  the  two  was 
about  to  happen.  Taking  the  hand  of  the  gentleman  with 
both  her  own,  as  she  pressed  it  with  fingers  interlocked,  the 
lady  said,  in  a  voice  of  music,  and  with  great  affection, 

"  Then,  my  dear  brother,  I  shall  certainly  hear  from  you 
within  the  week,  and  see  you  next  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  gentleman,  as  he  tenderly  paid  his 
adieiis ;  then  throwing  himself  into  the  chaise,  it  dashed  from 


304  PRECAUTION. 

the  door,  like  the  passage  of  a  meteor.  The  horsemen  fol 
lowed;  the  uniidden  charger,  obedient  to  the  orders  of  his 
keeper,  wheeled  gracefully  into  his  station  ;  and  in  an  instan 
they  were  all  lost  amidst  the  wood,  through  which  the  .'oac 
to  the  park  gates  conducted. 

After  lingering  without  until  the  last  of  her  brother's  fol 
lowers  had  receded  from  her  sight,  the  lady  retired  through 
ranks  of  liveried  footmen  and    maids,    whom   curiosity   or 
respect  had  collected. 

The  young  traveller  wore  a  gloom  on  his  expressive  fea- 
tures, amidst  the  pageantry  that  surrounded  him,  which 
showed  the  insufficiency  of  wealth  and  honors  to  fill  the  sum 
of  human  happiness.  As  his  carriagef  rolled  proudly  up  an 
eminence  ere  he  had  reached  the  confines  of  his  extensive 
park,  his  eye  rested,  for  a  moment,  on  a  scene  in  which 
meadows,  forests,  fields  waving  with  golden  corn,  comforta- 
ble farm-houses  surrounded  with  innumerable  cottages,  were 
seen,  in  almost  endless  variety.  All  these  owned  him  for 
their  lord,  and  one  quiet  smile  of  satisfaction  beamed  on  his 
face  as  he  gazed  on  the  unlimited  view.  Could  the  heart  of 
that  youth  have  been  read,  it  would  at  that  moment  have 
told  a  story  very  different  from  the  feelings  such  a  scene  is 
apt  to  excite  ;  it  would  have  spoken  the  consciousness  of  well 
apphed  wealth,  the  gratification  of  contemplating  meritorious 
deeds,  and  a  heartfelt  gratitude  to  the  Being  which  had 
enabled  him  to  become  the  dispenser  of  happiness  to  so  many 
of  his  fellow-creatures. 

"  Which  way,  my  lord,  so  early  ?"  cried  a  gentleman  in 
phaeton,  as  he  drew  up,  on  his  way  to  a  watering  j)lace,  t« 
pay  his  own  parting  compliments. 

"  To  Eltringham,  Sir  Owen,  to  attend  the  marriage  of  my 
kinsman,  Mr.  Denbigh,  to  one  of  the  sistoi*s  of  the  mar 
quess." 


PRECAUTION.  305 

A  few  more  questions  and  ansvvei*s,  and  the  gentlemen, 
exchanging  friendly  adieus,  pursued  each  his  own  course  ; 
Sir  Owen  Ap  Rice  pushing  forward  for  Cheltenham,  and  the 
Earl  of  Pendennyss  proceeding  to  act  as  groomsman  to  his 
cousin. 

The  gates  of  Eltringham  were  open  to  the  admission  of 
many  an  equipage  on  the  following  day,  and  the  heart  of  the 
Lady  Laura  beat  quick,  as  the  sound  of  wheels,  at  different 
times,  reached  her  ears.  At  last  an  unusual  moveYnent  in 
the  house  drew  her  to  a  window  of  her  dressing-room,  and 
the  blood  rushed  to  her  heart  as  she  beheld  the  equipages 
which  were  rapidly  approaching,  and  through  the  mist  which 
stole  over  her  eyes  she  saw  alight  from  the  first,  the  Duke  of 
Derwent  and  the  bridegroom.     The    next   contained  Lord 

Pendennyss,  and  the  last  the  Bishop  of .     Lady  Laura 

waited  to  see  no  more,  but  with  a  heart  filled  with  terror, 
hope,  joy,  and  uneasiness,  she  threw  herself  into  the  arms  of 
one  of  her  sisters. 

"  Ah  !"  exclaimed  Lord  Henry  Stapleton,  about  a  week 
after  the  wedding  of  his  sister,  seizing  John  suddenly  by  the 
arm,  while  the  latter  was  taking  his  morning  walk  to  the  resi- 
dence of  the  dowager  Lady  Chatterton,  "  Moseley,  you  dissir 
pated  youth,  in  town  yet :  you  told  me  you  should  stay  but 
a  day,  and  here  I  find  you  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight." 

John  blushed  a  little  at  the  consciousness  of  his  reason  for 
sending  a  written,  instead  of  carrying  a  verbal  report,  of  the 
result  of  his  journey,  but  replied, 

"  Yes,  my  friend  Chatterton  unexpectedly  arrived,  and  so 
— and  so — " 

"  And  so  you  did  not  go,  I  presume  you  mean,"  cried 
Lord  Henry,  with  a  laugh. 

**  Yes,"  said  John,  "  and  so  I  stayed — but  where  is  Den- 
bigh?" 


306  PRECAUTION. 

"  Where  ? — why  with  liis  wife,  wliere  every  well-behaved 
man  should  be,  especially  for  the  first  month."  rejoined  the 
sailor,  gaily. 

*'  Wife !"  echoed  John,  as  soon  as  he  felt  able  to  give 
utterance  to  his  words — "  wife  !  is  he  married?" 

"  Married,"  cried  Lord  Henry,  imitating  his  manner,  "  are 
you  yet  to  learn  that  ?  why  did  you  ask  for  him  1" 

"  Ask  for  him!"  said  Moseley,  yet  lost  in  astonishment; 
"  but  when — how — where  did  he  marry— my  lord  ?" 

Lord  Henry  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  with  a  surprise 
little  short  of  his  own,  as  he  answered  more  gravely  : 

"  When  ? — last  Tuesday  ;  how  ?   by  special  license,   and 

the  Bishop  of ;  where  ? — at  Eltringham  :— yes,  my  dear 

fellow,"  continued  he,  with  his  former  gaiety,  "  George  is 
my  brother  now — and  a  fine  fellow  h<*  is." 

"  I  really  wish  your  lordship  much  joy,"  said  John,  strug- 
gling to  command  his  feelings. 

"  Thank  you — thank  you,"  replied  the  sailor  ;  "  a  jolly 
time  we  had  of  it,  Moseley.  I  wish,  with  all  my  heart, 
you  had  been  there ;  no  bolting  or  running  away  as  soon 
as  spHced,  but  a  regularly  constructed,  old-fashioned  wed- 
ding ;  all  my  doings.  I  wrote  Laura  that  time  was  scarce, 
and  1  had  none  to  throw  away  on  fooleries  ;  so  dear,  good 
soul,  she  consented  to  let  me  have  everything  my  own 
way.  AVe  had  Derwent  and  Pendennyss,  the  marquess, 
Lord  William,  and  myself,  for  groomsmen,  and  my  thi-ee 
sisters — ah,  that  was  bad,  but  there  was  no  helping  it — 
Lady  Harriet  Denbigh,  and  an  old  maid,  a  cousin  of  ours, 
for  bridesmaids ;  could  not  help  the  old  maid  either,  upon  my 
honor,  or  be  quite  certain  I  would." 

How  much  of  what  he  said  Moseley  heard,  we  cannot  say ; 
for  had  he  talked  an  hour  longer  he  would  have  been  unin- 
terrupted.    Lord   Henry  was  too  much  engaged  with   h» 


PRECAUTION.  307 

description  to  notice  his  companion's  taciturnity  or  surprise, 
and  after  walking  a  square  or  two  together  they  parted;  the 
sailor  being  on  the  wing  for  his  frigate  at  Yarmouth. 

John  continued  his  course,  musing  on  the  intelligence  he 
had  just  heard.  That  Denbigh  could  forget  Emily  so  soon, 
he  would  not  believe,  and  he  greatly  feared  he  had  been 
driven  into  a  step,  from  despair,  that  he  might  hei-eafter 
repent  of.  The  avoiding  of  himself  was  now  fully  explained  ; 
but  would  Lady  Laura  Stapleton  accept  a  man  for  a  husband 
at  so  short  a  notice  ?  and  for  the  first  time  a  suspicion  that 
something  in  the  character  of  Denbigh  was  wrong,  mingled, 
in  his  reflections  on  his  sister's  refusal  of  his  offers. 

Lord  and  Lady  Herriefield  were  on  the  eve  of  their  depar- 
ture for  the  continent  (for  Catherine  had  been  led  to  the 
altar  the  preceding  week),  a  southein  climate  having  been 
prescribed  as  necessary  to  the  bridegroom's  constitution  ;  and 
the  dowager  and  Grace  were  about  to  proceed  to  a  seat  of 
the  baron's  within  a  couple  of  miles  of  Bath.  Chatterton 
himself  had  his  own  engagements,  but  he  promised  to  be 
there  in  company  with  his  friend  Derwent  within  a  fortnight ; 
the  former  visit  having  been  postponed  by  the  mariiages  in 
their  respective  families. 

John  had  been  assiduous  in  his  attentions  during  the  season 
of  forced  gaiety  which  followed  the  nuptials  of  Kate  ;  and  as 
the  dowager's  time  was  monopolized  with  the  ceremonials  of 
that  event,  Grace  had  risen  greatly  in  his  estimation.  If 
Grace  Chatterton  was  not  more  miserable  than  usual,  at  what 
she  thought  was  the  destruction  of  her  sister's  happiness,  it 
was  owing  to  the  presence  and  unconcealed  affection  of  John 
Moseley. 

The  carriage  of  Lord  Herriefield  was  in  waiting  when  John 
rang  for  admittance.  On  opening  the  door  and  entering  the 
drawing-room,  he  saw  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  with  their 


308  PRECAUTION. 

/ 

mother  and  sister,  accoutred  for  an  excursion  amongst  the 
shops  of  Bond  street :  for  Kate  was  dying  to  find  a  vent  for 
some  of  her  surpkis  pin-money — her  husband  to  show  his 
handsome  wife  in  the  face  of  the  world — the  mother  to  dis- 
play the  triumph  of  her  matrimonial  schemes.  And  Grace 
was  forced  to  obey  her  mother's  commands,  in  accompanying 
her  sister  as  an  attendant,  not  to  be  dispensed  with  at  all  in 
her  circumstances. 

The  entrance  of  John  at  that  instant,  though  nothing  more 
than  what  occurred  every  day  at  that  hour,  deranged  the 
whole  plan  :  the  dowager,  for  a  moment,  forgot  her  resolution, 
and  forgot  the  necessity  of  Grace's  appearance,  exclaiming 
with  evident  satisfaction, 

"  Here  is  Mr.  Moseley  come  to  keep  you  company,  Grace ; 
so,  after  all,  you  must  consult  your  headach  and  stay  at  home. 
Indeed,  my  love,  I  never  can  consent  you  should  go  out.  I 
not  only  wish,  but  insist  you  remain  within  this  morning." 

Lord  Heiriefield  looked  at  his  mother-in-law  in  some  sur- 
prise, and  threw  a  suspicious  glance  on  his  own  rib  at  the 
moment,  which  spoke  as  plainly  as  looks  can  speak, 

"  Is  it  possible  I  have  been  taken  in  after  all !" 

Gi-ace  was  unused  to  resist  her  mother's  commands,  and 
throwing  off  her  hat  and  shawl,  reseated  herself  with  more 
composure  than  she  would  probably  have  done,  had  not  the 
attentions  of  Moseley  been  more  delicate  and  pointed  of  late 
than  formerly. 

As  they  passed  the  porter,  Lady  Chatterton  observed  tc 
him  significantly — "  Nobody  at  home,  Willis." — "  Yes,  mj 
lady,"  was  the  laconic  reply,  and  Lord  Herriefield,  as  he  took 
his  seat  by  the  side  of  his  wife  in  the  carriage,  thought  she 
was  not  as  handsome  as  usual. 

Lady  Chatterton  that  morning  unguardedly  laid  the  foun- 
dation of  years  of ,  misery  for  her  eldest  daughter  ;  or  rather 


PRECAUTION.  309 

tlie  foundations  were  already  laid  in  the  ill-assorted,  and 
heartless,  unprincipled  union  she  had  labored  with  success  to 
effect.  But  she  had  that  morning  stripped  the  mask  from 
her  own  character  prematurely,  and  excited  suspicions  in  the 
breast  of  her  son-in-law,  which  time  only  served  to  confirm, 
and  memory  to  brood  over. 

Lord  Herriefield  had  been  too  long  in  the  world  not  to 
understand  all  the  ordinary  arts  of  match-makers  and  match- 
huntei*s.  Like  most  of  his  own  sex  who  have  associated 
freely  with  the  worst  part  of  the  other,  his  opinions  of  female 
excellences  were  by  no  means  extravagant  or  romantic. 
Kate  had  pleased  his  eye  ;  she  was  of  a  noble  family";  young, 
and  at  that  moment  interestingly  quiet,  having  nothing  par- 
ticularly in  view.  She  had  a  taste  of  her  own,  and  Lord 
Herriefield  was  by  no  means  in  conformity  with  it ;  conse- 
quently, she  expended  none  of  those  pretty  little  arts  upon 
him  which  she  occasionally  practised,  and  which  his  experi- 
ence would  imm.ediately  have  detected.  Her  disgust  he  had 
attributed  to  disinterestedness  ;  and  as  Kate  had  fixed  her  eye 
on  a  young  officer  lately  returned  from  France,  and  her  mo- 
ther on  a  Duke  who  was  mourning  the  death  of  a  third  wife, 
devising  means  to  console  him  with  a  fourth — the  Viscount 
had  got  a  good  deal  enamored  with  the  lady,  before  either 
she  or  her  mother  took  any  particular  notice  that  there  was 
sjch  a  being  in  existence.  His  title  was  not  the  most  ele- 
rated,  but  it  was  ancient.  His  paternal  acres  were  not 
numerous,  but  his  East-India  shares  were.  He  was  not  very 
young,  but  he  was  not  very  old ;  and  as  the  Duke  died  of  a 
fit  of  the  gout  in  his  stomach,  and  the  officer  ran  away  with 
a  girl  in  her  teens  from  a  boarding-school,  the  dowager  and 
her  daughter,  after  thoroughly  scanning  the  fashionable  world, 
determined,  for  want  of  a  better,  that  he  would  do. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  mother  and  child  held 


310  PRECAUTION. 

any  open  communications  with  each  other  to  this  eflfect.  The 
delicacy  and  pride  of  both  would  have  been  greatly  injured 
by  such  a  suspicion ;  yet  they  arrived  simultaneously  at  the 
same  conclusion,  as  well  as  at  another  of  equal  importance  to 
the  completion  of  their  schemes  on  the  Viscount.  It  was 
simply  to  adhere  to  the  same  conduct  which  had  made  him  a 
captive,  as  most  likely  to  insure  the  victory. 

There  was  such  a  general  understanding  between  the  two 
it  can  excite  no  surprise  that  they  co-operated  harmoniously 
as  it  were  by  signal. 

For  two  people,  correctly  impressed  with  their  duties  and 
responsibilities,  to  arrive  at  the  same  conclusion  in  the  govern- 
ment of  their  conduct,  would  be  merely  a  matter  of  coume ; 
and  so  with  those  who  are  more  or  less  under  the  dominion 
of  the  world.  They  will  pursue  their  plans  with  a  degree  of 
concurrence  amounting  nearly  to  sympathy  ;  and  thus  had 
Kate  and  her  mother,  until  this  morning,  kept  up  the  mas- 
querade so  well  that  the  Viscount  was  as  confiding  as  a 
country  Corydon.  When  he  first  witnessed  the  dowager's 
management  with  Grace  and  John,  however,  and  his  wife's 
careless  disregard  of  a  thing  which  appeared  too  much  a 
matter  of  course  to  be  quite  agreeable,  his  newly  awakened 
distrust  approached  conviction. 

Grace  Chatterton  both  sang  and  played  exquisitely ;  it 
was,  however,  seldom  she  could  sufficiently  overcome  her 
desire,  when  John  was  an  auditor,  to  appear  to  advantage. 

As  the  party  went  down  stairs,  and  Moseley  had  gone 
with  them  part  of  the  way,  she  threw  herself  unconsciously 
on  a  seat,  and  began  a  beautiful  song,  that  was  fashionable 
at  the  time.  Her  feelings  were  in  consonance  with  the 
words,  and  Grace  was  very  happy  both  in  execution  and 
Foice. 

John  had  reached  the  back  of  her  seat  before  she  was  at 


PRECAUTIOX.  311 

all  sensible  of  his  return,  and  Grace  lost  her  self-command 
immediately.  She  rose  and  took  a  seat  on  a  sofa,  and  the 
young  man  was  immediately  at  her  side. 

"  Ah,  Grace,"  said  John,  the  lady's  heart  beating  high 
you  certainly  do  sing  as  you  do  everything,  admirably." 

"  I  am  happy  you  think  so,  Mr.  Mos"eley,"  returned  Grace 
ooking  everywhere  but  in  his  face. 

John's  eyes  ran  over  her  beauties,  as  with  palpitating 
bosom  and  varying  color  she  sat  confused  at  the  unusual 
warmth  of  his  language  and  manner. 

Fortunately  a  remarkably  striking  likeness  of  the  Dowager 
hung  directly  over  their  heads,  and  John  taking  her  unre- 
sisting hand,  continued, 

"  Dear  Grace,  you  resemble  your  brother  very  much  Id 
features,  and  what  is  better  still,  in  character." 

"  I  could  wish,"  said  Grace,  venturing  to  look  up,  "  to  re- 
semble your  sister  Emily  in  the  latter." 

"  And  why  not  to  be  her  sister,  dear  Grace  ?"  said  he 
with  ardor.  ■ "  You  are  worthy  to  become  her  sister.  Tell 
me,  Grace,  dear  Miss  Chatterton — can  you — will  you  make 
me  the  happiest  of  men  ?  may  I  present  another  inestimable 
daughter  to  my  parents  ?" 

As  John  paused  for  an  answer,  Grace  looked  up,  and  he 
waited  her  reply  in  evident  anxiety ;  but  she  continued 
silent,  now  pale  as  deat^,  and  now  of  the  color  of  the  rose, 
i.;id  he  added  : 

"  I  hope  I  have  not  offended  you,  dearest  Grace  :  you  ara 
all  that  is  desirable  to  me ;  my  hopes,  my  happiness,  are 
centred  in  you.  Unless  you  consent  to  become  my  wife,  I 
must  be  very  wretched." 

Grace  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears,  as  her  lover,  interested 
deeply  in  their  cause,  gently  drew  her  towards  him.  Her 
head  sank  on  his  shoulder,  as  she  faintl^  whispered  some- 


312  PRECAUTION. 

thing  that  was  inaudible,  but  which  he  did  not  fail  to  inter- 
pret into  everything  he  most  wished  to  hear.  John  was  in 
ecstasies.  Every  unpleasant  feeling  of  suspicion  had  left 
him.  Of  Grace's  innocence  of  manoeuvring  he  never  doubted, 
but  John  did  not  relish  the  idea  of  being  entrapped  into 
anything,  even  a  step  which  he  desired.  An  uninterrupted 
communication  followed ;  it  was  as  confiding  as  thei. 
aflfections  :  and  the  return  of  the  dowager  and  her  child i-en 
first  recalled  them  to  the  recollection  of  other  people. 

One  glance  of  the  eye  was  enough  for  Lady  Chatterton. 
t^he  saw  the  traces  of  tears  on  the  cheeks  and  in  the  eyes 
of  Grace,  and  the  dowager  was  satisfied;  she  knew  his 
friends  would  not  object ;  and  as  Grace  attended  her  to  her 
dressing-room,  she  cried  on  entering  it,  "  Well,  child,  when 
is  the  wedding  to  be  ?  You  will  wear  me  out  with  so  much 
gaiety." 

Grace  was  shocked,  but  did  not  as  formerly  weep  over 
her  mother's  interference  in  agony  and  dread.  John  had 
opened  his  whole  soul  to  her,  observing  the  greatest  dehcacy 
towards  her  mother,  and  she  now  felt  her  happiness  placed 
in  the  keeping  of  a  man  whose  honor  she  believed  much 
exceeded  that  of  any  other  human  being. 


PRECAUTION.  313 


CHAPTEE  XXXII. 

The  seniors  of  the  party  at  Benfield  Lodge  were  al 
assembled  one  morning  in  a  parlor,  when  its  master  and  tha 
baronet  were  occupied  in  the  perusal  of  the  London  papers 
Clara  had  persuaded  her  sisters  to  accompany  her  and 
Francis  in  an  excursion  as  far  as  the  village. 

Jane  yet  continued  reserved  and  distant  to  most  of  her 
friends  ;  while  Emily's  conduct  would  have  escaped  unnoticed, 
did  not  her  blanched  cheek  and  wandering  looks  at  times 
speak  a  language  not  to  be  misunderstood.  With  all  her 
relatives  she  maintained  the  affectionate  intercourse  she  had 
always  supported  ;  though  not  even  to  her  aunt  did  the 
name  of  Denbigh  pass  her  lips.  But  in  her  most  private 
and  humble  petitions  to  God,  she  never  forgot  to  mingle 
with  her  requests  for  spiritual  blessings  on  herself,  fervent 
prayers  for  the  conversion  of  the  preserver  of  her  life. 

Mrs.  Wilson,  as  she  sat  by  the  side  of  her  sister  at  their 
needles,  first  discovered  an  unusual  uneasiness  in  their 
venerable  host,  while  he  turned  his  paper  over  and  over, 
as  if  unwilling  or  unable  to  comprehend  some  part  of  its 
contents,  until  he  rang  the  bell  violently,  and  bid  the  servant 
to  send  Johnson  to  him  without  a  moment's  delay. 

"  Peter,"  said  Mr.  Benfield  doubtingly,  "  read  that — your 
eyes  are  young,  Peter ;  read  that." 

Peter  took  the  paper,  and  after  having  adjusted  his  spec 
tacles  to  his  satisfaction,  he  proceeded  to  obey  his  master's 
mjunctions ;  but  the  same  defect  of  vision  as  suddenly  seized 
the  steward  at  it  had  aff"ected  his  master.     He  turned  the 

14 


314  PRECAUTION. 

paper  sideways,  and  appeared  to  be  spelling  the  matter  of 
the  paragi-aph  to  himself.  Peter  would  have  given  his  three 
hundred  a  year  to  have  had  the  impatient  John  Moseley  a 
hand,  to  relieve  him  from  his  task  ;  but  the  anxiety  of  Mr.  Ben 
field  overcoming  his  fear  of  the  worst,  he  inquired  in 
tremulous  tone — 

"  Peter?  hem  !  Peter,  what  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Why,  your  honor,"  replied  the  steward,  stealing  a  look 
at  his  master,  "  it  does  seem  so  indeed." 

"  I  remember,"  said  the  master,  "  when  Lord  Gosford  saw 
the  marriage  of  the  countess  announced  he " 

Here  the  old  gentleman  was  obliged  to  stop,  and  rising 
with  dignity,  and  leaning  on  the  arm  of  his  faithful  servant, 
lie  left  the  room. 

Mrs.  Wilson  immediately  took  up  the  paper,  and  her  eye 
catching  the  paragraph  at  a  .glance,  she  read  aloud  as 
follows  to  her  expecting  friends  : 

"  Married  by  special  license,  at  the  seat  of  the  Most  Noble 
the  Marquess  of  Eltringham,  in  Devonshire,  by  the  Right 

Rev.  Lord  Bishop  of ,  George  Denbigh  Esq.,  Lieutenant 

Colonel  of  his  Majesty's regiment  of  dragoons,  to  the 

Right  Honorable  Lady  Laura  Stapleton,  eldest  sister  of  "the 
Marquess.  Eltringham  was  honored  on  the  present  happy 
occasion  with  the  presence  of  his  grace  of  Derwent,  and  the 
gallant  Lord  Pendennyss,  kinsmen  of  the  bridegroom, 
and  Captain  Lord  Henry  Stapleton  of  the  Royal  Navy 
We  understand  that  the  happy  couple  proceed  to  Denbigl 
Castle  immediately  after  the  honey-moon." 

Although  Mrs.  Wilson  had  given  up  the  expectation  of 
ever  seeing  her  niece  the  wife  of  Denbigh,  she  felt  an  inde 
Bcribable  shock  as  she  read  this  paragraph.  The  strongest 
feeling  was  horror  at  the  danger  Emily  had  been  in  of 
contracting  an  alliance  with  such  a  man.     His  avoiding  tlie 


"PRECAUTION.  315 

ball,  at  which  be  knew  Lord  Henry  was  expected,  was 
explained  to  her  by  this  marriage  ;  for  with  John,  she  could 
not  believe  a  woman  like  Lady  Laura  Stapleton  was  to  be  won 
in  the  short  space  of  one  fortnight,  or  indeed  less.  There  was 
too  evidently  a  mystery  yet  to  be  developed,  and  she  felt  cer 
tain  one  that  would  not  elevate  his  character  in  her  opinion. 

Neither  Sir  Edward  nor  Lady  Moseley  had  given  up  the 
expectation  of  seeing  Denbigh  again,  as  a  suitor  for  Emily's 
hand,  and  to  bdth  of  them  this  certainty  of  his  loss  was  a 
heavy  blow.  The  baronet  took  up  the  paper,  and  after 
perusing  the  article,  he  muttered  in  a  low  tone,  as  he  wiped 
the  tears  from  his  eyes,  "  Heaven  bless  him  :  I  sincerely  hope 
she  is  worthy  of  him."  Worthy  of  him,  thought  Mrs.  Wil- 
son, with  a  feeling  of  indignation,  as,  taking  up  the  paper, 
she  retired  to  her  own  room,  whither  Eraily,  at  that  moment 
returned  from  her  walk,  had  proceeded.  As  her  niece  must 
hear  this  news,  she  thought  the  sooner  the  better.  The 
exercise,  and  the  unreserved  conversation  of  Francis  and 
Clara,  had  restored  in  some  degree  the  bloom  to  the  cheek 
of  Emily  ;  and  Mrs.  Wilson  felt  it  necessary  to  struggle  with 
herself,  before  she  could  summon  sufficient  resolution  to 
invade  the  returning  peace  of  her  charge.  However,  having 
already  decided  on  her  course,  she  proceeded  to  the  discharge 
of  what  she  thought  to  be  a  duty. 

"  Emily,  my  child,"  she  whispered,  pressing  her  affection 
ately  to  her  bosom,  "  you  have  been  all  I  could  wish,  and 
more  than  I  expected,  under  your  arduous  struggles.     Bu 
one  more  pang,  and  I  trust  your  recollections  on  this  painful 
subject  will  be  done  away." 

Emily  looked  at  her  aunt  in  anxious  expectation  of  what 
was  coming,  and  quietly  taking  the  paper,  fohowed  the 
direction  of  Mrs.  Wilson's  finger  to  the  article  on  the  mar 
riage  of  Denbigh. 


816  PRECAUTION. 

There  was  a  momentary  struggle  in  Emily  for  self-com- 
mand. She  was  obliged  to  find  support  in  a  chair.  The 
returning  richness  of  color,  excited  by  her  walk,  vanished ; 
but  recovering  herself,  she  pressed  the  hand  of  her  anxious 
guardian,  and,  gently  waving  her  back,  proceeded  to  her  own 
room. 

On  her  return  to  the  company,  the  same  control  of  her 
feelings  which  had  distinguished  her  conduct  of  late,  was 
again  visible ;  and,  although  her  aunt  most  narrowly  watched 
her  movements,  looks,  and  speeches,  she  could  discern  no 
visible  alteration  by  this  confirmation  of  misconduct.  The 
truth  was,  that  in  Emily  Moseley  the  obligations  of  duty 
were  so  imperative,  her  sense  of  her  dependence  on  Provi- 
dence so  humbling  snd  yet  so  confiding,  that,  as  soon  as 
she  was  taught  to  believe  her  lover  unworthy  of  her  esteem, 
that  moment  an  insuperable  barrier  separated  them.  His 
marriage  could  add  nothing  to  the  distance  between  them. 
It  was  impossible  they  could  be  united  ;  and  although  a 
secret  lingering  of  the  aff'ections  over  his  fallen  character 
might  and  did  exist,  it  existed  without  any  romantic  expecta- 
tions of  miracles  in  his  favor,  or  vain  wishes  of  reformation, 
in  which  self  was  the  prominent  feeling.  She  might  be  said 
to  be  keenly  alive  to  all  that  concerned  his  welfare  or  move- 
ments, if  she  did  not  harbor  the  passion  of  love ;  but  it 
showed  itself  in  prayers  for  his  amendment  of  life,  and  the 
most  ardent  petitions  for  his  future  and  eternal  happiness. 
She  had  set  about,  seriously  and  with  much  energy,  the 
task  of  erasing  from  her  heart  sentiments  which,  however 
delightful  she  had  found  it  to  entertain  in  times  past,  were 
now  in  direct  variance  with  her  duty.  She  knew  that  a 
weak  indulgence  of  such  passions  would  tend  to  draw  her 
mind  from,  and  disqualify  her  to  discharge,  those  various 
calls  on  her  time  and  her  exertions,  which  could  alone  enable 


PRECAUTION.  317 

her  to  assist  others,  or  effect  in  her  own  person  the  great 
purposes  of  her  creation.  It  was  never  lost  sight  of  by 
Emily  Moseley,  that  her  existence  here  was  preparatory  to  an 
immensely  more  important  state  hereafter.  She  was  conse- 
quently in  charity  with  all  mankind ;  and  if  grown  a  httle 
more  distrustful  of  the  intentions  of  her  fellow-creatures,  it 
was  a  mistrust  bottomed  in  a  clear  view  of  the  frailties  of 
our  nature ;  and  self-examination  was  amongst  the  not  unfre- 
quent  speculations  she  made  on  this  hasty  marriage  of  her 
former  lover. 

Mrs.  Wilson  saw  all  this,  and  was  soon  made  acquainted 
by  her  niece  in  terms,  with  her  views  of  her  own  condition  ; 
and  although  she  had  to,  and  did,  deeply  regret,  that  all  her 
caution  had  not  been  able  to  guard  against  deception,  where 
it  was  most  important  for  her  to  guide  aright,  yet  she  was 
cheered  with  the  reflection  that  her  previous  care,  with  the 
blessings  of  Providence,  had  admirably  fitted  her  charge  to 
combat  and  overcome  the  consequences  of  their  mistaken 
confidence. 

The  gloom  which  this  little  paragraph  excited,  extended  to 
every  individual  in  the  family ;  for  all  had  placed  Denbigh 
by  the  side  of  John,  in  their  affections,  ever  since  his  weighty 
services  to  Emily. 

A  letter  from  John  announcing  his  intention  of  meeting 
them  at  Bath,  as  well  as  his  new  relation  with  Grace,  relieved 
in  some  measure  this  general  depression  of  spirit.  Mr.  Ben- 
field  alone  found  no  consolation  in  the  approaching  nuptials 
John  he  regarded  as  his  nephew,  and  Grace  he  thought  a 
very  good  sort  of  young  woman  ;  but  neither  of  them  were 
beings  of  the  same  genus  with  Emily  and  Denbigh. 

"Peter,"  said  he  one  day,  after  they  had  both  been  expend- 
ing their  ingenuity  in  vain  efforts  to  discover  the  cause  of 
this  so-much-desired  marriage's  being  so  unexpectedly  frua- 


318  PRECAUTION. 

b^ted,  "  have  I  not  often  told  you,  that  fate  governed  these? 
things,  in  order  th?t  men  might  be  humble  in  this  life  ? 
Now,  Peter,  had  the  Lady  Juliana  wedded  with  a  mind  con- 
genial to  her  own,  she  might  have  been  mistress  of  Benfield 
Lodge  to  this  very  horn*." 

"  Yes,  your  honor — but  there's  Miss  Emmy's  legacy." 

And  Peter  withdrew,  thinking  what  would  have  been  the 
consequences  had  Patty  Steele  been  more  willing,  when  he 
wished  to  make  her  Mrs,  Peter  Johnson — an  association  by 
no  means  uncommon  in  the  mind  of  the  steward ;  for  if 
Patty  had  ever  a  rival  in  his  aflfections,  it  was  in  the  person 
of  Emily  Moseley,  though,  indeed,  with  very  different  degrees 
and  coloring  of  esteem. 

The  excursions  to  the  cottage  had  been  Continued  by  Mrs. 
Wilson  and  Emily,  and  as  no  gentleman  was  now  in  the 
family  to  interfere  with  their  communications,  a  general  visit 
to  the  young  widow  had  been  made  by  the  Moseleys,  includ- 
ing Sir  Edward  and  Mr.  Ives. 

The  Jar  vises  had  gone  to  London  to  receive  their  children, 
now  penitent  in  more  senses  than  one  ;  and  Sir  Edward 
learnt  with  pleasure  that  Egerton  and  his  wife  had  been 
admitted  into  the  family  of  the  merchant. 

Sir  Edgar  had  died  suddenly,  and  the  entailed  estates  had 
fallen  to  his  successor  the  colonel,  now  Sir  Harry ;  but  the 
bulk  of  his  wealth,  being  in  convertible  property,  he  had 
given  by  will  to  his  other  nephew,  a  young  clergyman,  and 
a  son  of  a  younger  brother.  Mary,  as  well  as  her  mother, 
were  greatly  disappointed,  by  this  deprivation,  of  what  they 
•"onsidered  their  lawful  splendor ;  but  they  found  great  conso- 
ation  in  the  new  dignity  of  Lady  Egerton,  whose  greatest 
wish  now  was  to  meet  the  Moseleys,  in  order  that  she  might 
precede  them  in  or  out  of  some  place  where  such  ceremonials 
are  observed.     The  sound  of  "  Lady  Egerton's  carriage  stops 


PRECAUTION.  319 

the  way,"  was  delightful,  and  it  never  failed  to  be  used  on 
all  occasions,  although  her  ladyship  was  mistress  of  only  a 
hired  vehicle. 

A  slight  insight   into   the  situation  of  things    amongst 
them    may    be  found   in    the  following   narrative   of   their 
views,  as  revealed  in  a  discussion  which  took  place   about 
a  fortnight   after   the   reunion   of    the   family    under    on 
roof. 

Mrs.  Jarvis  was  mistress  of  a  very  handsome  coach,  the 
gift  of  her  husband  for  her  own  private  use.  After  having 
satisfied  herself  the  baronet  (a  dignity  he  had  enjoyed  just 
twenty-four  hours)  did  not  possess  the  abihty  to  furnish  his 
lady,  as  she  termed  her  daughter,  with  such  a  luxury,  she 
magnanimously  determined  to  relinquish  her  own,  in  support 
of  the  new-found  elevation  of  her  daughter.  Accordingly, 
a  consultation  on  the  alterations  which  were  necessary  took 
place  between  the  ladies — "  The  arms  must  be  altered,  of 
course,"  Lady  Egerton  observed,  "  and  Sir  Harry's,  with 
the  bloody  hand  and  six  quarterings,  put  in  their  place ; 
tJien  the  liveries,  they  must  be  changed." 

"  Oh,  mercy  !  my  lady,  if  the  arms  are  altered,  Mr.  Jarvis 
will  be  sure  to  notice  it,  and  he  would  never  forgive  me  ; 
and  perhaps — " 

"  Perhaps  what  ?"  exclaimed  the  new-made  lady,  with  a 
disdainful  toss  of  her  head. 

"  Why,"  replied  the  mother,  warmly,  "  not  give  me  the 
hundred  pounds  he  promised,  to  have  it  new-lined  and 
painted." 

"  Fiddlesticks  with  the  painting,  Mrs.  Jarvis,"  cried  the 
lady  with  dignity  :  "  no  carriage  shall  be  called  mine  that 
does  not  bear  my  arras  and  the  bloody  hand." 

"  Why,  your  ladyship  is  unreasonable,  indeed  you  are," 
said   Mrs.   Jarvis,  coaxingly;    and  then    after  a  moment's 


320  PRECAUTION. 

thought  she  continued,  *'  is  it  the  arms  or  the  baronetcy  you 
want,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  care  nothing  for  the  arms,  but  I  am  determined, 
now  I  am  a  baronet's  lady,  Mrs.  Jarvis,  ►to  have  the  proper 
emblem  of  my  rank." 

"  Certainly,  my  lady,  that's  true  dignity :  well,  then,  we 
will  put  the  bloody  hand  on  your  father's  arms,  and  he  will 
never  notice  it,  for  he  never  sees  such  things." 

The  arrangement  was  happily  completed,  and  for  a  few 
days  the  coach  of  Mr.  Jarvis  bore  about  the  titled  dame, 
until  one  unlucky  day  the  merchant,  who  still  went  on 
'change  when  any  great  bargain  in  the  stocks  was  to  be 
made,  arrived  at  his  own  door  suddenly,  to  procure  a  calcu- 
lation he  had  made  on  the  leaf  of  his  prayer-book  the  last 
Sunday  during  sermon.  This  he  obtained  after  some  search. 
In  his  haste  he  drove  to  his  broker's  in  the  carriage  of  his 
wife,  to  save  time,  it  happening  to  be  in  waiting  at  the 
moment,  and  the  distance  not  great.  Mr.  Jarvis  forgot  to 
order  the  man  to  return,  and  for  an  hour  the  vehicle  stood 
in  one  of  the  most  public  places  in  the  city.  The  conse- 
quence was,  that  when  Mr.  Jarvis  undertook  to  examine  into 
his  gains,  with  the  account  rendered  of  the  transaction  by 
his  broker,  he  was  astonished  to  read,  "  Sir  Timothy  Jarvis. 
Bart.,  in  account  with  John  Smith,  Dr."  Sir  Timothy 
examined  the  account  in  as  many  different  ways  as  Mr.  Ben- 
field  had  examined  the  marriage  of  Denbigh,  before  he 
would  believe  his  eyes  ;  and  when  assured  of  the  fact,  he 
immediately  caught  up  his  hat,  and  went  to  find  tlie  man 
who  had  dared  to  insult  him,  as  it  were,  in  defiance  of  the 
formality  of  business.  He  had  not  proceeded  one  square  in 
the  city  before  he  met  a  friend,  who  spoke  to  him  by  the  title ; 
an  explanation  of  the  mistake  followed,  and  the  quasi  baronet 
proceeded  to  his  stables.     Here  by  actual  examination  ha 


PRECAUTION.  321 

detected  the  fraud.  An  explanation  with  his  consort  fol- 
lowed ;  and  the  painter's  brush  soon  effaced  the  emblem  of 
dignity  from  the  panels  of  the  coach.  All  this  was  easy 
but  with  his  waggish  companions  on  'Change  and  in  the 
city  (where,  notwithstanding  his  wife's  fashionable  propensi 
ties,  he  loved  to  resort)  he  was  Sir  Timothy  still. 

Mr.  Jarvis,  though  a  man  of  much  modesty,  was  one  of 
great  decision,  and  he  determined  to  have  the  laugh  on  his 
side.  A  newly  purchased  borough  of  his  sent  up  an  address 
flaming  with  patriotism,  and  it  was  presented  by  his  own 
hands.  The  merchant  seldom  kneeled  to  his  Creator,  but 
on  this  occasion  he  humbled  himself  dutifully  before  his 
prince,  and  left  the  presence  with  a  legal  right  to  the 
appellation  which  his  old  companions  had  affixed  to  him 
sarcastically. 

The  rapture  of  Lady  Jarvis  may  be  more  easily  imagined 
than  faithfully  described,  the  Christian  name  of  her  husband 
alone  throwing  any  alloy  into  the  enjoyment  of  her  eleva- 
tion :  but  by  a  license  of  speech  she  ordered,  and  addressed 
in  her  own  practice,  the  softer  and  more  familiar  appellation 
of  Sir  Timo.  Two  servants  were  discharged  the  fii-st  week, 
because,  unused  to  titles,  they  had  addressed  her  as  mistress  ; 
and  her  son,  the  captain,  then  at  a  watenno--place,  was  made 
acquainted  by  express  with  the  joyful  intelligence. 

All  this  time  Sir  Henry  Egerton  was  but  little  seen 
amongst  his  new  relatives.  He  had  his  own  engagements 
and  haunts,  and  spent  most  of  his  time  at  a  fashionable 
gaming  house  in  the  West  End.  As,  however,  the  town 
was  deserted,  Lady  Jarvis  and  her  daughters,  having  con- 
descended to  pay  a  round  of  city  visits,  to  show  off  her  airs 
and  dignity  to  her  old  friends,  pei-suaded  Sir  Timo  that  the 
hour  for  their  visit  to  Bath  had  arrived,  and  they  were  soon 
comfortably  settled  in  that  city. 
14* 


322  PRECAUTION. 

Lady  Chatterton  and  her  youngest  daughter  had  arrived 
at  the  seat  of  her  son,  and  John  Moseley,  as  happy  as  the 
eeitainty  of  love  returned  and  the  approbation  of  his  friends 
could  make  him,  was  in  lodgings  in  the  town.  Sir  Edward 
notified  his  son  of  his  approaching  visit  to  Bath,  and  John 
took  proper  accommodations  for  the  family,  which  lie  occu- 
pied for  a  few  days  by  himself  as'locum  tenens. 

Lord  and  Lady  Herriefield  had  departed  for  the  south  of 
France ;  and  Kate,  removed  from  the  scenes  of  her  earliest 
enjoyments  and  the  bosom  of  her  own  family,  and  under 
the  protection  of  a  man  she  neither  loved  nor  respected, 
began  to  feel  the  insufficiency  of  a  name  or  of  a  fortune  to 
constitute  felicity.  Loid  Herriefield  was  of  a  suspicious  and 
harsh  temper,  the  first  propensity  being  greatly  increased 
by  his  former  associations,  and  the  latter  not  being  removed 
by  the  humility  of  his  eastern  dependants.  But  the  situation 
of  her  child  gave  no  uneasiness  to  the  managing  mother, 
who  thought  her  in  the  high-road  to  happiness,  and  wa£ 
gratified  at  the  result  of  her  labors.  Once  or  twice,  indeed, 
her  habits  had  overcome  her  caution  so  much  as  to  endeavor 
to  promote,  a  day  or  two  sooner  than  had  been  arranged, 
the  wedding  of  Grace ;  but  her  impnidence  was  checked 
instantly  by  the  recoiling  of  Moseley  from  her  insinuations 
in  disgust ;  and  the  absence  of  the  young  man  for  twenty- 
four  hours  gave  her  timely  warning  of  the  danger  of  such  an 
interference  with  one  of  such  fastidious  feelings.  John 
punished  himself  as  much  as  the  dowager  on  these  occasions  ; 
but  the  smiling  face  of  Grace,  with  her  hand  fransly  placed 
in  his  own  at  his  return,  never  failed  to  do  away  the  unplea. 
Bant  sensations  created  by  her  mother's  care. 

The  Chatterton  and  Jarvis  families  met  in  the  rooms,  soon 
after  the  arrival  of  the  latter,  when  the  lady  of  the  knight, 
followed  by  both  her  daughters,  approached  the  dowager  with 


PRECAUTION.  S2H 

a  most  friendly  salute   of  recognition.     Lady  Chatterton, 

really  forgetful  of  the  persons  of  her  B acquaintance, 

and  disliking  the  vulgarity  of  her  air,  drew  up  into  an  ap- 
pearance of  great  dignity,  as  she  hoped  the  lady  was  well. 
The  merchant's  wife  felt  the  consciousness  of  rank  too  much 
to  be  repulsed  in  this  manner,  and  believing  that  the  dowager 
liad  merely  forgotten  her  face,  she  added,  with  a  simpering 
smile,  in  imitation  of  what  she  had  seen  better  bred  people 
practise  with  success — 

"  Lady  Jarvis — my  lady — your  ladyship  don't  remember 

me — Lady  Jarvis  of  the  Deanery,  B ,  Northamptonshire, 

and  my  daughters.  Lady  Egerton  and  Miss  Jarvis."  Lady 
Egerton  bowed  stiffly  to  the  recognising  smile  the  dowager 
now  condescended  to  bestow  ;  but  Sarah,  remembering  a  cer 
tain  handsome  lord  in  the  family,  was  more  urbane,  deter- 
mining at  the  moment  to  make  the  promotion  of  her  mother 
and  sister  stepping-stones  to  greater  elevation  for  herself. 

"  I  hope  my  lord  is  well,"  continued  the  city  lady.  "  1 
regret  that  Sir  Timo,  and  Sir  Harry,  and  Captain  Jarvis,  are 
not  here  this  morning  to  pay  their  respects  to  your  ladyship  ; 
but  as  we  shall  see  naturally  a  good  deal  of  each  other,  it 
must  be  deferred  to  a  more  fitting  opportunity." 

"  Certainly,  madam,"  replied  the  dowager,  as,  passing  her 
compliments  with  those  of  Grace,  she  drew  back  from  so  open 
a  conversation  with  creatures  of  such  doubtful  standing  in  the 
fishionable  world. 


324  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTEE  XXXin. 

On  taking  leave  of  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  Emily  and  her  aunt 
nettled  a  plan  of  correspondence ;  the  deserted  situation  of 
this  young  woman  having  created  great  interest  in  t^e  breasts 
of  her  new  friends.  General  M'Carthy  had  returned  to  Spain 
without  receding  from  his  original  proposal,  and  his  niece  was 
left  to  mourn  her  early  departure  from  one  of  the  most 
solemn  duties  of  life. 

Mr.  Benfield,  thwarted  in  one  of  his  most  favorite  schemes 
of  happiness  for  the  residue  of  his  hfe,  obstinately  refused  to 
make  one  of  the  party  at  Bath ;  and  Ives  and  Clara  having 
returned  to  Bolton,  the  remainder  of  the  Moseleys  arrived  at 
the  lodgings  of  John  a  very  few  days  after  the  interview  of 
the  preceding  chapter,  with  hearts  ill  qualified  to  enter  into 
the  gaieties  of  the  place,  though,  in  obedience  to  the  wishes 
of  Lady  Moseley,  to  see  and  to  be  seen  once  more  on  that 
great  theatre  of  fashionable  amusement. 

The  friends  of  the  family  who  had  known  them  in  times 
past  were  num^erous,  and  were  glad  to  renew  their  acquaint- 
ance with  those  they  had  always  esteemed ;  so  tliat  they 
found  themselves  immediately  surrounded  by  a  circle  of 
smiling  faces  and  dashing  equipages. 

Sir  William  Harris,  the  proprietor  of  the  deanery,  and  a 
former  neighbor,  with  his  showy  daughter,  were  amongst  the 
first  to  visit  them.  Sir  William  was  a  man  of  hand^rae 
estate  and  unexceptionable  character,  but  entirely  governed 
by  the  whims  and  desires  of  his  only  child.  Caroline  Harris 
wanted  neither  sense  nor  beauty,  but  expecting  a  fortune, 


PRECAUTION.  325 

she  had  placed  her  views  too  high.  She  at  first  aimed  at  the 
peerage  ;  and  while  she  felt  herself  entitled  to  suit  her  taste 
as  well  as  her  ambition,  had  failed  of  her  object  by  ill-con- 
cealed efforts  to  attain  it.  She  had  justly  acquired  the  repu- 
tation of  the  reverse  of  a  coquette  or  yet  of  a  prude  ;  still  she 
had  never  received  an  offer,  and  at  the  age  of  twenty-six,  bad 
now  begun  to  lower  her  thoughts  to  the  commonalty.  Her 
fortune  would  have  easily  obtained  her  husband  here,  but  she 
was  determined  to  pick  amongst  the  lower  supporters  of  the 
aristocracy  of  the  nation.  With  the  Moseleys  she  had  been 
early  acquainted,  though  some  years  their  senior ;  a  circum- 
stance, however,  to  which  she  took  care  never  to  allude  unne- 
cessarily. 

The  meeting  between  Grrace  and  the  Moseleys  was  tender 
and  sincere.  John's  countenance  glowed  with  delight,  as  he 
saw  his  future  wife  folded  successively  in  the  arms  of  those 
heloved,.and  Grace's  tears  and  blushes  added  twofold  charms 
to  her  native  beauty.  Jane  relaxed  from  her  reserve  to 
receive  her  future  sister,  and  determined  with  herself  to 
appear  in  the  world,  in  order  to  show  Sir  Henry  Egerton  that 
she  did  not  feel  the  blow  he  had  inflicted  as  severely  as  the 
truth  might  have  proved. 

The  Dowager  found  some  little  occupation,  for  a  few  days, 
in  settling  with  Lady  Moseley  the  preliminaries  of  the  wed- 
dinor ;  but  the  latter  had  suffered  too  much  throuofh  her 
youngest  daughters,  to  enter  into  these  formalities  with  her 
ancient  spirit.  All  things  were,  however,  happily  settled;  and 
Ives  making  a  journey  for  the  express  pui-pose,  John  and 
Grace  were  united  privately  at  the  altar  of  one  of  the  prin- 
cipal churches  in  Bath.  Chatterton  had  been  summoned  off 
the  occasion;  and  the  same  ])apcr  whicii  announced  the  nup- 
tials, contained,  amongst  the  fashionable  arrivals,  the  namea 
of  the   Duke  of  Derwent  and   his  sister,   the  Marauess  of 


326  PRECAUTION. 

Eltringliam  and  sistei's,  amongst  whom  was  to  be  found  Lady 
Laura  Denbigh.  Lady  Chatterton  carelessly  remarked,  in 
presence  of  her  friends,  the  husband  of  the  latter  was  sum- 
moned to  the  death-bed  of  a  relative,  from  whom  he  had  ofreat 
expectations.  Emily's  color  did  certainly  change  as  she  hs- 
tened  to  this  news,  but  not  allow4n£j  her  thouo-hts  to  dwell  on 
the  subject,  she  was  soon  enabled  to  recall  her  serenity  of 
appearance. 

But  Jane  and  Emily  were  delicately  placed.  The  lover 
of  the  former,  and  the  wives  of  the  lovers  of  both,  were  in 
the  way  of  daily,  if  not  hourly  rencounters ;  and  it  required 
all  the  energies  of  the  young  women  to  appear  with  compo- 
sure before  them.  The  elder  was  supported  by  pride,  the 
younger  by  principle.  The  first  was  restless,  haughty,  dis- 
tant, and  repulsive.  The  last  mild,  humble,  reserved,  but 
eminently  attractive.  The  one  was  suspected  by  all  around 
her ;  the  other  was  unnoticed  by  any,  but  by  her  nearest  and 
dearest  friends. 

The  first  rencounter  with  these  dreaded  guests  occurred  at 
the  rooms  one  evening,  where  the  elder  ladies  had  insisted  on 
the  bride's  making  her  appearance.  The  Jarvises  were  there 
before  them,  and  at  their  entrance  caught  the  eyes  of  the 
group.  Lady  Jarvis  approached  immediately,  filled  with 
exultation — her  husband  with  respect.  The  latter  was  re- 
ceived with  cordiality — the  former  politely,  but  with  distance. 
The  young  ladies  and  Sir  Henry  bowed  distantly,  and  the 
gentleman  soon  drew  off  into  another  part  of  the  room  :  his 
absence  alone  kept  Jane  from  fainting.  The  handsome  figure 
i>f  Egerton  standing  by  the  side  of  Mary  Jarvis,  as  her 
ncknowledged  husband,  was  near  proving  too  much  for  her 
cride,  notwithstanding  all  her  efforts  ;  and  he  looked  so  like  the 
imaginary  being  she  had  set  up  as  the  object  of  her  worship, 
that  her  heart  was  also  in  danger  of  rebelling. 


pnErAriiox.  32'7 

"Positively,  Sir  Edward  and  my  lady,  both  Sir  Timo  and 
myself,  and,  I  dare  say,  Sir  Harr}'-  and  Lady  Egerton  too, 
are  delighted  to  see  you  comfortably  at  Bath  among  us. 
Mrs.  Moseley,  I  wish  you  much  happiness  ;  Lady  Chatterton 
too.  I  suppose  your  ladyship  recollects  me  now  ;  I  am 
Lady  Jarvis.  Mr.  Moseley,  I  regret,  for  your  sake,  that  my 
son  Captain  Jarvis  is  not  here ;  you  were  so  fond  of  each 
other,  and  both  so  loved  your  guns." 

"  Positively,  my  Lady  Jarvis,"  said  Moseley,  drily,  "  my 
feelings  on  the  occasion  are  as  strong  as  your  own  ;  but  I 
presume  the  captain  is  much  too  good  a  shot  for  me  by  this 
time." 

"  Why,  yes  ;  he  improves  greatly  in  most  things  he  under- 
takes," rejoined  the  smiling  dame,  "  and  I  hope  he  will  soon 
learn,  like  you,  to  shoot  with  the  Narrows  of  Cupid.  I  hope 
the  Honorable  Mrs.  Moseley  is  well." 

Grace  bowed  mildly,  as  she  answered  to  the  interroga- 
tory, and  smiled  at  the  thought  of  Jarvis  put  in  competition 
with  her  husband  in  this  species  of  archery,  when  a  voice 
immediately  behind  whei-e  they  sat  caught  the  ears  of  the 
whole  party  ;  all  it  said  was — 

"  Harriet,  you  forgot  to  show  me  Marian's  letter." 

"  Yes,  but  I  will  to-morrow,"  was  the  reply. 

It  was  the  tone  of  Denbigh.  Emily  almost  fell  from 
her  seat  as  it  first  reached  her,  and  the  eyes  of  all  but 
herself  were  immediately  turned  in  quest  of  the  speaker. 
He  had  approached  within  a  very  few  feet  of  them, 
supporting  a  lady  on  each  arm.  A  second  look  con- 
vinced the  Moseleys  that  they  were  mistaken.  It  was  not 
Denbigh,  but  a  young  man  whose  figure,  face,  and  air 
resembled  him  strongly,  and  whose  voice  possessed  the 
same  soft  melodious  tones  which  had  distinguished  that  of 

o 

Denbigh.     This  party  seated  themselves  within  a  very  short 


328  PRECAUTION. 

distance  of  tlie  Moseleys,  and  they  continued  their  conver- 
sation. 

"  You  heard  from  tlie  Colonel  to-day,  too,  I  believe, 
continued  the  gentleman,  turning^  to  the  lady  who  sat  next  U 
Emily. 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  very  punctual  correspondent ;  I  hear  everj 
other  day." 

"How  is  his  uncle,  Laura?"  inquired  her  female  com- 
panion. 

"  Rather  better ;  but  I  will  thank  your  grace  to  find  the 
Marquess  and  Miss  Howard." 

"  Bring  them  to  us,"  rejoined  the  other. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  former  lady,  with  a  laugh,  **and  Eltring- 
ham  will  tliank  you  too,  I  dare  say." 

In  an  instant  the  duke  returned,  accompanied  by  a  gen- 
tleman of  thirty  and  an  eldeily  lady,  who  might  have 
been  safely  taken  for  fifty  without  offence  to  anybody  but 
herself. 

During  these  speeches  their  auditors  had  listened  with 
almost  breathless  interest.  Emily  had  stolen  a  glance  which 
satisfied  her  it  was  not  Denbigh  himself,  and  it  greatly 
relieved  her ;  but  was  startled  at  discovering  that  she  was 
actually  seated  by  the  side  of  his  young  and  lovely  wife. 
When  an  opportunity  offered,  she  dwelt  on  the  amiable, 
flank  countenance  of  her  rival  with  melancholy  satisfaction  • 
at  least,  she  thought,  he  may  yet  be  happy,  and  I  hop 
penitent. 

It  was  a  mixtui-e  of  love  and  gratitude  which  prompter 
this  wish,  both  sentiments  not  easily  got  rid  of  whei 
once  ingrafted  in  our  better  feelings.  John  eyed  the  stran- 
gers with  a  displeasure  for  which  he  could  not  account  at 
once,  and  saw,  in  the  ancient  lady,  the  bridesmaid  Lord' 
Heuiy  had  so  unwillingly  admitted  to  that  distinction. 


PRECAUTION.  32J) 

Lady  Jarvis  was  astounded  with  her  vicinity  to  so  much 
nobility,  and  she  drew  back  to  her  family  to  study  its 
movements  to  advantage ;  while  Lady  Chatterton  sighed 
heavily,  as  she  contemplated  the  fine  figures  of  an  unmarried 
Duke  and  Marquess,  and  she  without  a  single  child  to  dis- 
pose of.  The  remainder  of  the  party  continued  to  view 
them  with  curiosity,  and  listened  with  interest  to  what  they 
said. 

Two  or  three  young  ladies  had  now  joined  the  strangers, 
attended  by  a  couple  of  gentlemen,  and  the  conversation 
became  general.  The  ladies  declined  dancing  entirely,  but 
appeared  willing  to  throw  away  an  hour  in  comments  on 
their  neighbors. 

"  William,"  said  one  of  the  young  ladies,  "  there  is  your 
old  messmate,  Col.  Egerton  " 

"  Yes,  I  observe  him,"  replied  her  brother,  *'  I  see  him  ;" 
but,  smiling  significantly,  he  continued,  "  we  are  messmates 
no  longer." 

"  He  is  a  sad  character,"  said  the  Marquess,  with  a 
shrug.  "  William,  I  would  advise  you  to  be  cautious  of  his 
acquaintance." 

"  I  thank  you,"  replied  Lord  William,  "  but  I  beheve  I 
understand  him  thoroughly." 

Jane  manifested  strong  emotion  during  these  remarks, 
while  Sir  Edward  and  his  wife  averted  their  faces  from  a 
simultaneous  feeling  of  self-reproach.  Their  eyes  met,  and 
mutual  concessions  were  contained  in  the  glance  ;  yet  their 
feelings  were  unnoticed  by  their  companions,  for  over  the 
fulfilment  of  her  often  repeated  forewarnings  of  neglect  and 
duty  to  our  children,  Mrs.  Wilson  had  mourned  in  sincerity, 
but  she  had  forgotten  to  triumph. 

"When  are  we  to  see  Pendennyss  ?"  inquired  the  Mar- 
quess  ;  '*  I  hope  he  will  be  here  with  George — I  have  a  mind 


330  PBECAUTION. 

to  beat  up  his  quarters  in  Wales  this  season- — what  say  you, 

Derwent?" 

"  I  intend  it,  if  I  can  persuade  Lady  Harriet  to  quit  the 
gaieties  of  Bath  so  soon — what  say  yow,  sister — will  you  be 
in  readiness  to  attend  me  so  early  ?" 

This  question  was  asked  in  an  arch  tone,  and  drew  the 
eyes  of  her  friends  on  the  person  to  whom  it  was  addressed. 

"  I  am  ready  now,  Frede"  ok,  if  you  wish  it,"  answered 
the  sister  hastily,  and  coloring  excessively  as  she  spoke. 

'*  But  where  is  Chatterton  ?  I  thought  he  was  here — he 
had  a  sister  married  here  last  week,"  in(juired  Lord  William 
Stapleton,  addressing  no  one  in  particular. 

A  slight  movement  in  their  neighbors  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  the  party. 

"  What  a  lovely  young  woman,"  whispered^  the  duke  to 
Lady  Laura,  "  your  neighbor  is  !" 

The  lady  smiled  her  assent,  and  as  Emily  overheard  it, 
she  rose  with  glowing  cheeks,  and  proposed  a  walk  round 
the  room. 

Chatterton  soon  after  entered.  The  young  peer  had 
"acknowledged  to  Emily  that,  deprived  of  hope  as  he  had 
been  by  her  firm  refusal  of  his  hand,  his  eftbrts  had  been 
directed  to  the  suppi-ession  of  a  passion  which  could  never 
be  successful ;  but  his  esteem,  his  respect,  remained  in  full 
force.  He  did  not  touch  at  all  on  the  subject  of  Denbigh, 
and  she  supposed  that  he  thought  his  marriage  was  a  step 
that  required  justification. 

The  Moseleys  had  commenced  their  promenade  round  the 
room  as  Chatterton  came  in.  He  paid  his  compliments  to 
them  as  soon  as  he  entered,  and  walked  with  their  party. 
The  noble  visitors  followed  their  example,  and  the  two  par- 
ties met.  Chatterton  was  delighted  to  see  them,  the  Duke 
was  particularly  fond  of  him ;  and,  had  one  been  present  pf 


PRECAUTION.  33:1 

sufficient  observation,  the  agitation  of  his  sister,  the  Lady 
Harriet  Denbigh,  would  have  accounted  for  the  doubts  of 
her  brother  as  respects  her  wilHngness  to  leave  Bath. 

A  few  words  of  explanation  passed  ;  the  duke  and  his 
friends  appeared  to  urge  something  on  Chatterton,  who  acted 
as  their  ambassador,  and  the  consequence  was,  an  introduc- 
tion of  the  two  parties  to  each  other.  This  was  conducted 
with  the  ease  of  the  present  fashion — it  was  general,  and 
occurred,  as  it  were  incidentally,  in  the  course  of  the  evening. 

Both  Lady  Harriet  and  Lady  Laura  Denbigh  were  particu- 
larly attentive  to  Emily.  They  took  their  seats  by  her,  and 
manifested  a  preference  for  her  conversation  that  struck  Mrs. 
Wilson  as  remarkable.  Could  it  be  that  the  really  attractive 
manners  and  beauty  of  her  niece  had  caught  the  fancy  of 
these  ladies,  or  was  there  a  deeper  seated  cause  for  the  desire 
to  di-aw  Emily  out,  that  both  of  them  evinced  ?  Mrs.  Wilson 
had  heai-d  a  rumor  that  Chatterton  was  thought  attentive  to 
Lady  Harriet,  and  the  other  was  the  wife  of  Denbigh  ;  was  it 
possible  the  quondam  suitors  of  her  niece  had  related  to  their 
present  favorites  the  situation  they  had  stood  in  as  regarded 
Emily  ?  It  was  odd,  to  say  no  more  ;  and  the  widow  dwelt 
on  the  innocent  countenance  of  the  bride  with  pity  and  admi- 
ration. Emily  herself  was  not  a  little  abashed  at  the  notice 
of  her  new  acquaintances,  especially  Lady  Laura's ;  but  as 
their  admiration  appeared  sincere,  as  well  as  their  desire  to  be 
on  terms  of  intimacy  with  the  Moseleys,  they  parted,  on  the 
whole,  mutually  pleased. 

The  conversation  several  times  was  embarrassing  to  the 
baronet's  family,  and  at  moments  distressingly  so  to  their 
daughters. 

At  the  close  of  the  evening  they  all  formed  one  group  at  a 
little  distance  from  the  rest  of  the  company,  and  in  a  situation 
to  comn^nd  a  view  of  it. 


332  PRECAUTION. 

**Who  is  that  vulgar-looking  woman,"  said  Lady  Sarah 
Stapleton,  "  seated  next  to  Sir  Henry  Egerton,  brother  V* 

"  No  less  a  personage  than  my  Lady  Jarvis,"  rephed  the 
marquess,  gravely,  "  and  the  mother-in-law  of  Sir  Harry,  and 
the  wife  to  Sir  Timo — ;"  this  was  said  with  a  look  of  drol- 
lery that  showed  the  marquess  was  a  bit  of  a  quiz 

"  Married  !"  cried  Lord  William,  "  mercy  on  the  woman  who 
is  Egerton's  wife.  He  is  the  greatest  latitudinarian  amongst 
the  ladies,  of  any  man  in  England — nothing — no,  nothing 
would  tempt  me  to  let  such  a  man  marry  a  sister  of  mine  !" 

Ah,  thought  Mrs.  Wilson,  how  we  may  be  deceived  in 
character,  with  the  best  intentions,  after  all !  In  what  are  the 
open  vices  of  Egerton  worse  than  the  more  hidden  ones  of 
Denbigh  ? 

These  freely  expressed  opinions  on  the  character  of  Sir 
Henry  were  excessively  awkward  to  some  of  the  listeners,  to 
whom  they  were  connected  with  unpleasant  recollections  of 
duties  neglected,  and  affections  thrown  away. 

Sir  Edward  Moseley  was  not  disposed  to  judge  his  fellow- 
creatures  harshly  ;  and  it  was  as  much  owing  to  his  philan- 
thropy as  to  his  indolence,  that  he  had  been  so  remiss  in  his 
attention  to  the  associates  of  his  daughters.  But  the  veil  once 
removed,  and  the  consequences  brought  home  to  him  through 
his  child,  no  man  was  more  alive  to  the  necessity  of  caution 
on  this  important  particular ;  and  Sir  Edward  formed  many 
salutary  resolutions  for  the  government  of  his  future  conduct 
in  relation  to  those  whom  an  experience  nearly  fatal  in  its 
results  had  now  greatly  qualified  to  take  care  of  themselves 
But  to  resume  our  narrative — Lady  Laura  had  maintainec 
with  Emily  a  conversation,  whkih  was  enhvened  by  occasiona 
remarks  from  the  rest  of  the  party,  in  the  course  of  which  the 
nerves  as  well  as  the  principles  of  Emily  were  put  to  a  severe 
trial. 


PRECAUTION.  333 

**  My  brother  Henry,"  said  Lady  Laura,  "  who  is  a  captain 
in  the  navy,  once  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  Miss  Mose- 
ley,  and  in  some  measure  made  me  acquainted  with  you 
before  we  met." 

"I  dined  with   Lord  Henry  at  L ,   and   was   much 

indebted  to  his  polite  attentions  in  an  excursion  on  the  water," 
rephed  Emily,  simply. 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  his  attentions  were  exclusive,"  cried  the 
sister;  "indeed,  he  told  us  that  nothing  but  want  of  time 
prevented  his  being  deeply  in  love — he  had  even  the  audacity 
to  tell  Denbigh  it  was  fortunate  for  me  he  had  never  seen 
you,  or  I  should  have  been  left  to  lead  apes." 

"  And  I  suppose  you  believe  him  now,"  cried  Lord  Wil- 
ham,  laughing,  as  he  bowed  to  Emily. 

His  sister  laughed  in  her  turn,  but  shook  her  head,  in  the 
confidence  of  conjugal  affection. 

"  It  is  all  conjecture,  for  the  Colonel  said  he  had  never 
enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Miss  Moseley,  so  I  will  not 
boast  of  what  my  powers  might  have  done ;  Miss  Moseley,'' 
continued  Lady  Laura,  blushing  slightly  at  her  inclination  to 
talk  of  an  absent  husband,  so  lately  her  lover,  "  I  hope  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  presenting  Colonel  Denbigh  to  you 
soon." 

"  I  think,"  said  Emily,  with  a  strong  horror  of  deception, 
and  a  mighty  struggle  to  suppress  her  feelings,  "  Colonel 
Denbigh  was  mistaken  in  saying  that  we  had  never  met ;  he 
was  of  material  service  to  me  once,  and  I  owe  him  a  debt  of 
gratitude  that  I  only  wish  I  could  properly  repay." 

Lady  Laura  listened  in  surprise ;  but  as  Emily  paused,  she 
could  not  delicately,  as  his  wife,  remind  her  further  of  the 
obligation,  by  asking  what  the  service  was,  and  hesitating  a 
moment,  continued — 

"  Henry   quite   made   you   the   subject   of   conversation 


334  PRECAUTION. 

amongst  us ;  Lord  Chatterton  too,  who  visited  us  for  a  day, 
was  equally  warm  in  his  eulogiums.  I  really  thought  they 
created  a  curiosity  in  the  Duke  and  Pendennyss  to  behold 
their  idol." 

"A  curiosity  that  would  be  ill  rewarded  in  its  indul 
gence,"said  Emily,  abashed  by  the  personality  of  the  discourse 

"■  So  says  the  modesty  of  Miss  Moseley,"  said  the  Duke  of 
Derwent,  in  the  peculiar  tone  which  distinguished  the  softer 
keys  of  Denbigh's  voice.  Emily's  heart  beat  quick  as  she 
heard  them,  and  she  was  afterwards  vexed  to  remember  with 
how  much  pleasure  she  had  listened  to  this  opinion  of  the 
duke.  Was  it  the  sentiment,  or  was  it  the  voice  ?  She, 
however,  gathered  strength  to  answer,  with  a  dignity  that 
repressed  further  praises  : — 

"Your  grace  is  willing  to  divest  me  of  what  Httle  I 
possess." 

*' Pendennyss  is  a  man  of  a  thousand,"  continued  Lady 
Laura,  with  the  privilege  of  a  married  woman.  "  I  do  wish 
he  would  join  us  at  Bath — is  there  no  hope,  duke?" 

'*  I  am  afraid  not,"  replied  his  grace :  "  ke  keeps  himself 
immured  in  Wales  with  his  sister,  who  is  as  much  of  a  hermit 
as  he  is  himself." 

"  There  was  a  story  of  an  inamorata  in  private  some- 
where," cried  the  marquess ;  '*  why  at  one  time  it  was  even 
said  he  was  privately  married  to  her." 

"  Scandal,  my  lord,"  said  the  duke,  gravely  :  *'  Pendennyss 
is  of  unexceptionable  morals,   and  the  lady   you   mean   is 
the  widow  of  Major  Fitzgerald,  whom  you  knew.     Penden 
nyss  never  sees  her,  though  by  accident  he  was  once  of  very 
great  service  to  her." 

Mrs.  Wilson  breathed  freely  again,  as  she  heard  this  ex 
planation,  and  thought  if  the  Marquess  knew  all,  how  diflei* 
ently  would  he  judge  Pendennyss,  as  well  as  othei-s. 


rRECAUT?iow.  335 

"  Ob  !  I  have  the  highest  opinion  of  Lora  Pendennyss," 
cried  the  Marquess. 

The  Moseleys  were  not  sorry  that  the  usual  hour  of  retiring 
put  an  end  to  the  conversation  and  then*  embarrassment. 


HiiH  PRECAUTIOlf. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

During  the  succeeding  fortnight,  the  intercourse  between 
the  Moseleys  and  their  new  acquaintances  increased  daily 
It  was  rather  awkward  at  first  on  the  part  of  Emily ;  and  her 
beating  pulse  and  changing  color  too  often  showed  the  alarm 
of  feelings  not  yet  overcome,  when  any  allusions  were  made 
to  the  absent  husband  of  one  of  the  ladies.  Still,  as  her 
parents  encouraged  the  acquaintance,  and  her  aunt  thought 
the  best  way  to  get  rid  of  the  remaining  weakness  with 
respect  to  Denbigh  was  not  to  shrink  from  even  an  interview 
with  the  gentleman  himself,  Emily  succeeded  in  conquering 
her  reluctance  ;  and  as  the  high  opinion  entertained  by  Lady 
Laura  of  her  husband  was  expressed  in  a  thousand  artless 
ways,  an  interest  was  created  in  her  that  promised  in  time 
to  weaken  if  not  destroy  the  impression  that  had  been  made 
by  Denbigh  himself. 

On  the  other  hand,  Egerton  carefully  avoided  all  collision 
with  the  Moseleys.  Once,  indeed,  he  endeavored  to  renew 
his  acquaintance  with  John,  but  a  haughty  repulse  almost 
produced  a  quarrel. 

What  representations  Egerton  had  thought  proper  to  make 
to  his  wife,  we  are  unable  to  say ;  but  she  appeared  to  resent 
something,  as  she  never  approached  the  dwelling  or  persons 
of  her  quondam  associates,  although  in  her  heart  she  was 
dying  to  be  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  tHeir  titled  friends. 
Her  incorrigible  mother  was  restrained  by  no  such  or  any 
other  consideration,  and  contrived  to  fasten  on  the  Dowager 
and  Lady  Harriet  a  kind  of  bowing  acquaintance,  which  she 
made  great  use  of  at  the  rooms. 


PRECAUTION.  337 

The  Duke  sought  out  the.  society  of  Emily  wherever  he 
could  obtain  it ;  and  Mrs.  Wilson  thought  her  niece  admitted 
his  approaches  with  less  reluctance  than  that  of  any  other 
of  the  gentlemen  around  her.  At  first  she  was  surprised, 
but  a  closer  observation  betrayed  to  her  the  latent  cause. 

Derwent  resembled  Denbigh  greatly  in  person  and.  voice, 
although  there  were  distinctions  easily  to  be  made  on  an 
acquaintance.  The  Duke  had  an  air  of  command  and 
hauteur  that  was  never  to  be  seen  in  his  cousin.  But  his 
admiration  of  Emily  he  did  not  attempt  to  conceal ;  and, 
as  he  ever  addressed  her  in  the  respectful  languag-e  and 
identical  voice  of  Denbigh,  the  observant  widow  easily  per- 
ceived, that  it  was  the  remains  of  her  attachment  to  the  one 
that  induced  her  niece  to  listen,  with  such  evident  pleasure, 
to  the  conversation  of  the  other. 

The  Duke  of  Derwent  wanted  many  of  the  indispensable 
requisites  of  a  husband,  in  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Wilson ;  yet,  as 
she  thought  Emily  out  of  all  danger  at  the  present  of  any 
new  attachment,  she  admitted  the  association,  under  no  other 
restraint  than  the  uniform  propriety  of  all  that  Emily  said 
or  did. 

"  Your  niece  will  one  day  be  a  Duchess,  Mrs.  Wilson," 
whispered  Lady  Laura,  as  Derwent  and  Emily  were  running 
over  a  new  poem  one  morning,  in  the  lodgings  of  Sir 
Edward ;  the  former  reading  a  fine  extract  aloud  so  strik- 
ngly  in  the  air  and  voice  of  Denbigh,  as  to  call  all  the 
animation  of  the  unconscious  Emily  into  her  expressive  face. 

Mrs.  Wilson  sighed,  as  she  reflected  on  the  strength  of 
those  feelings  which  even  principles  and  testimony  had  no 
been  able  wholly  to  subdue,  as  she  answered — 

"Not  of  Derwent,  I  believe.  But  how  wonderfully  Ihe 
Duke  resembles  your  husband  at  times,"  she  added,  entirely 
thrown  off  her  guard. 

15 


338  PRECAUTION. 

Lady  Laura  was  evidently  surprised. 

"  Yes,  at  times  he  does  ;  they  are  brothers'  children,  you 
know :  the  voice  in  all  that  connexion  is  remarkable. 
Pendennyss,  though  a  degree  further  off  in  blood,  possesses 
it ;  and  Lady  Harriet,  you  perceive,  has  the  same  character- 
istic ;  there  has  been  some  syren  in  the  family,  in  days  past." 

Sir  Edward  and  Lady  Moseley  saw  the  attention  of  the 
Duke  with  the  greatest  pleasure.  Though  not  slaves  to  the 
ambition  of  wealth  and  rank,  they  were  certainly  no  objec- 
tions in  their  eyes ;  and  a  proper  suitor  Lady  Moseley 
thought  the  most  probable  means  of  driving  the  recollection 
of  Denbigh  from  the  mind  of  her  daughter.  The  latter  con- 
sideration had  gi-eat  weight  in  inducing  her  to  cultivate  an 
acquaintance  so  embarrassing  on  many  accounts. 

The  Colonel,  however,  wrote  to  his  wife  the  impossibility 
of  his  quitting  his  uncle  while  he  continued  so  unwell,  and 
it  was  settled  that  the  bride  should  join  him,  under  the 
escort  of  Lord  William. 

The  same  tenderness  distinguished  Denbigh  on  this  occa- 
sion that  had  appeared  so  lovely  when  exercised  to  his 
dying  father.  Yet,  thought  Mrs.  Wilson,  how  insufficient 
are  good  feelings  to  effect  what  can  only  be  the  result  of 
good  principles. 

Caroline  Harris  was  frequently  of  the  parties  of  pleasure, 
walks,  rides,  and  dinners,  which  the  Moseleys  were  compelled 
to  join  in ;  and  as  the  Marquess  of  Eltringham  had  given 
her  one  day  some  little  encouragement,  she  determined  to 
make  an  expiring  effort  at  the  peerage,  before  she  conde- 
scended to  enter  into  an  examination  of  the  qualities  of 
Capt.  Jarvis,  who,  his  mother  had  persuaded  her,  was  an 
Apollo,  that  had  great  hopes  of  being  one  day  a  Lord,  as 
both  the  Captain  and  herself  had  commenced  laying  up 
a  certain  sum  quarterly  for  the  purpose  of  buying  a  title 


PRECAUTION.  339 

hereafter — an  ingenious  expedient  of  Jarvis*s  to  get  into  his 
hands  a  portion  of  the  allowance  of  his  mother. 

Eltringham  was  strongly  addicted  to  the  ridiculous  ;  and 
without  committing  himself  in  the  least,  drew  the  lady  out 
on  divers  occasions,  for  the  amusement  of  himself  and  the 
Duke — who  enjoyed,  without  practising,  that  species  of 
joke. 

The  collisions  between  ill-concealed  art  and  as  ill-con 
cealed  irony  had  been  practised  with  impunity  by  the  Mar* 
quess  for  a  fortnight,  and  the  lady's  imagination  began  to 
revel  in  the  delights  of  a  triumph,  when  a  really  respectable 
offer  was  made  to  Miss  Harris  by  a  neighbor  of  her  father's 
in  the  country — one  she  would  rejoice  to  have  received  a 
few  days  before,  but  which,  in  consequence  of  hopes  created 
by  the  following  occurrence,  she  haughtily  rejected. 

It  was  at  the  lodgings  of  the  Baronet  that  Lady  Laura 
exclaimed  one  day, — 

"  Marriage  is  a  lottery,  certainly,  and  neither  Sir  Henry 
nor  Lady  Egerton  appears  to  have  drawn  a  prize." 

Here  Jane  stole  from  the  room. 

"  Never,  sister,"  cried  the  Marquess.  **  I  will  deny  that. 
Any  man  can  select  a  prize  from  your  sex,  if  he  only  knows 
his  own  taste." 

"  Taste  is  a  poor  criterion,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson, 
gravely,  "  on  which  to  found  matrimonial  felicity." 

"  To  what  would  you  refer  the  decision,  my  dear 
madam  ?"  inquired  the  Lady  Laura. 

"  Judgment." 

Lady  Laura  shook  her  hear  doubtingly. 

"  You  remind  me  so  much  of  Lord  Pendennyss  I  Every- 
thing he  wishes  to  bring  under  the  subjection  of  judgment 
and  principles." 

"  And  is  he  wrong,  Lady  Laura  !'*^  asked  Mrs.  Wilson, 


340  PRECAUTION. 

pleased  to  find  such  correct  views  existed  in  one  of  whom 
she  thought  so  highly. 

"  Not  wrong,  my  dear  madam,  only  impracticable.  What 
do  you  think,  Marquess,  of  choosing  a  wife  in  conformity  to 
your  principles,  and  without  consulting  your  tastes  ?" 

Mrs.  Wilson  shook  her  head  with  a  laugh,  and  disclaimed 
any  such  statement  of  the  case  ;  but  the  Marquess,  who 
disliked  one  of  John's  didactic  conversations  very  much, 
gaily  interrupted  her  by  saying — 

"  Oh  !  taste  is  everything  with  me.  The  woman  of  my 
heart  against  the  world,  if  she  suits  my  fancy,  and  satisfies 
my  judgment." 

"  And  what  may  this  fancy  of  your  Lordship  be  ?"  said 
Mrs.  Wilson,  willing  to  ■  gratify  the  trifling.  "What  kind 
of  a  woman  do  you  mean  to  choose  ?  How  tall  for 
instance  ?" 

"  Why,  madam,"  cried  the  Marquess,  rather  unprepared 
for  such  a  catechism,  and  looking  around  him  until  the 
outstretched  neck  and  the  eager  attention  of  Caroline  Harris 
caught  his  eye,  when  he  added  with  an  air  of  great  sim- 
plicity— "  about  the  height  of  Miss  Harris." 

"  How  old  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Wilson  with  a  smile. 

"  Not  too  young,  ma'am,  certainly.  I  am  thirty-two — my 
wife  must  be  five  or  six  and  twenty.  Am  I  old  enough,  do 
you  think,  Derwent  ?"  He  added  in  a  whisper  to  the  Duke 

"  Within  ten  years,"  was  the  reply. 

Mrs.  Wilson  continued — 

"  She  must  read  and  write,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Why,  faith,"  said  the  Marquess,  "  I  am  not  fond  of  a 
bookish  sort  of  a  woman,  and  least  of  all  a  scholar." 

"  You  had  better  take  Miss  Howard,"  whispered  his 
brother.  "  She  is  old  enough — never  reads — and  is  just  the 
height'' 


PRECAUTION.  34 1 

"  No,  no,  Will.,"  rejoined  the  brotlier.  "  Rather  too  old 
that.  Now,  I  admire  a  woman  who  has  confidence  in  her- 
self. One  that  understands  the  proprieties  of  life,  and  has, 
if  possible,  been  at  the  head  of  an  establishment  before  she 
is  to  take  charge  of  mine." 

The  delighted  Caroline  wriggled  about  in  her  chair,  and, 
unable  to  contain  herself  longer,  inquired  : — 

"  Noble  blood  of  course,  you  would  require,  my  Lord  ?" 

"  Why  no  !  I  rather  think  the  best  wives  are  to  be  founa 
in  a  medium.  I  would  wish  to  elevate  my  wife  myself.  A 
Baronet's  daughter  for  instance." 

Here  Lady  Jarvis,  who  had  entered  during  the  dialogue, 
and  caught  a  clue  to  the  topic  they  were  engaged  in,  drew 
near,  and  ventured  to  ask  if  he  thought  a  simple  knight  too 
low.  The  Marquess,  who  did  not  expect  such  an  attack, 
was  a  little  at  a  loss  for  an  answer ;  but  recovering  himself 
answered  gravely,  under  the  apprehension  of  another  desigr- 
on  his  person,  that  "  he  did  think  that  would  be  forgetting 
his  duty  to  his  descendants." 

Lady  Jarvis  sighed,  and  fell  back  in  disappointment ;  whik 
Miss  Harris,  turning  to  the  nobleman,  in  a  soft  voice,  desired 
him  to  ring  for  her  carriage.  As  he  handed  her  down,  she 
ventured  to  inquire  if  his  lordship  had  ever  met  with  such 
a  woman  as  he  described. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Harris,"  he  whispered,  as  he  handed  her  intc 
the  coach,  "  how  can  you  ask  me  such  a  question  ?  You 
are  very  cruel.     Drive  on,  coachman." 

"  How,  cruel,  my  Lord  ?"  said  Miss  Harris  eagerly.  "  Stop, 
John.  How,  cruel,  my  Lord  ?"  and  she  stretched  her  neck 
out  of  the  window  as  the  Marquess,  kissing  his  hand  to  ^er, 
ordered  the  man  to  proceed. 

"  Don't  you  hear  your  lady,  sir  ?" 

Lady  Jarvis  had  followed  them  down,  also  with  a  view  to 


342  PRECAUTION. 

catch  anything  which  might  be  said,  having  apologized  for 
her  hasty  visit ;  and  as  the  Marquess  handed  her  politely 
into  her  carriage,  she  also  begged  '•  he  would  favor  Sir  Timo 
and  Sir  Henry  with  a  call ;"  which  being  promised,  Elti-ing 
ham  returned  to  the  room. 

"  When  am  I  to  salute  a  Marchioness  of  Eltringham  ?" 
cried  Lady  Laura  to  her  brother,  "  one  on  the  new  standard 
set  up  by  your  Lordsiiip." 

"  Whenever  Miss  Harris  can  make  up  her  mind  to  the 
sacrifice,"  replied  the  brother  very  gravely.  "  Ah  me  !  how 
very  considerate  some  of  your  sex  are,  for  the  modesty  of 
ours." 

"  I  wish  you  joy  with  all  my  heart,  my  Lord  Marquess," 
exclaimed  John  Moseley.  "  I  was  once  favored  with  the 
notice  of  that  same  lady  for  a  week  or  two,  but  a  viscount 
saved  me  from  capture." 

"  I  really  think,  Moseley,"  said  the  Duke  innocently,  but 
speaking  with  animation,  "  an  intriguing  daughter  worse 
than  a  managing  mother." 

John's  gravity  for  a  moment  vanished,  as  he  replied  in 
a  lowered  key, 

"  Oh,  much  worse." 

Grace's  heart  was  in  her  throat,  until,  by  stealing  a  glance 
at  her  husband,  she  saw  the  cloud  passing  over  his  fine 
brow ;  and  happening  to  catch  her  afiectionate  smile,  his 
fe,ce  was  at  once  lighted  into  a  look  of  pleasantry. 

"  I  would  advise  caution,  my  Lord.  Caroline  Harris  has 
the  advantage  of  experience  in  her  trade,  and  was  expert 
from  the  first." 

"  John — John,"  said  Sir  Edward  with  warmth,  "  Sir 
William  is  my  friend,  and  his  daughter  must  be  respected." 

"  Then,  baronet,"  cried  the  Marquess,  "  she  has  one  recom 
mendation  I  was  ignorant  of,  and  as  such  1  am  silent :  bui 


PRECAUTION.  34S 

ought  not  Sir  "William  to  teach  his  daughter  to  respect  her- 
self ?  I  view  these  husband-hunting  ladies  as  pirates  on  the 
ocean  of  love,  and  lawful  objects  for  any  roving  cruiser  like 
myself  to  fire  at.  At  one  time  I  was  simple  enough  to 
retire  as  they  advanced,  but  you  know,  madam,"  turning  to 
Mrs.  Wilson  with  a  droll  look,  "  flight  only  encourages 
pursuit,  so  I  now  give  battle  in  self-defence." 

"  And  I  hope  successfully,  my  Lord,"  observed  the  Lady ' 
"  Miss  Harris,  brother,  does  appear  to  have  grown  desperate 
in  her  attacks,  which  were  formerly  much  more  masked 
than  at  present.  I  believe  it  is  generally  the  case,  when  a 
young  woman  throws  aside  the  delicacy  and  feelings  which 
ought  to  be  the  characteristics  of  her  sex,  and  which  teach 
her  studiously  to  conceal  her  admiration,  that  she  either 
becomes  in  time  cynical  and  disagreeable  to  all  around  her 
from  disappointment,  or  persevering  in  her  efforts,  as  it 
were,  runs  a  muck  for  a  husband.  Now  in  justice  to  the 
gentlemen,  I  must  say,  baronet,  there  are  strong  symptoms 
of  the  Malay  about  Caroline  Harris." 

"  A  muck,  a  muck,"  cried  the  piarquess,  as,  in  obedience 
to  the  signal  of  his  sister,  he  rose  to  withdraw. 

Jane  had  retired  to  her  own  room  in  a  mortification  of 
spirit  she  could  ill  conceal  during  this  conversation,  and  she 
felt  a  degree  of  humiliation  which  almost  drove  her  to  the 
desperate  resolution  of  hiding  herself  for  ever  from  the 
world.  The  man  she  had  so  fondly  enshrined  in  her  heart 
proving  to  be  so  notoriously  unworthy  as  to  be  the  subject 
of  unreserved  censure  in  general  company,  was  a  reproach 
to  her  delicacy,  her  observation,  her  judgment,  that  was  the 
more  severe,  from  being  true  ;  and  she  wept  in  bitterness 
over  her  fallen  happiness. 

Emily  had  noticed  the  movement  of  Jane,  and  waited 
anxiously  for  the  departure  of  the  visitors  to  hasten  to  her 


344 


PRECAUTION. 


room.     She  knocked  two  or  three  times  before  her  sistei 
replied  to  her  request  for  admittance. 

**  Jane,  my  dear  Jane,"  said  Emily,  soothingly,  *'  will  you 
not  admit  me  ?" 

Jane  could  not  resist  anj  longer  the  affection  of  her  sister, 
and  the  door  was  opened  ;  but  as  Emily  endeavored  to  tak 
her  hand,  she  drew  back  coldly,  and  cried — 

"  I  wonder  you,  who  are  so  happy,  will  leave  the  gay 
scene  below  for  the  society  of  an  humbled  wretch  like  me ;" 
and  overcome  with  the  violence  of  her  emotion,  she  burst 
into  tears. 

"  Happy  !"  repeated  Emily,  in  a  tone  of  anguish,  "  happy, 
did  you  say,  Jane  ?  Oh,  little  do  you  know  my  sufferings, 
or  you  would  never  speak  so  cruelly  !" 

Jane,  in  her  turn,  surprised  at  the  strength  of  Emily's 
language,  considered  her  weeping  sister  with  commiseration ; 
and  then  her  thoughts  recurring  to  her  own  case,  she  con- 
tinued with  energy — 

"  Yes,  Emily,  happy  ;  for  whatever  may  have  been  the 
reason  of  Denbigh's  conduct,  he  is  respected ;  and  if  you  do 
or  did  love  him,  he  was  worthy  of  it.  But  I,"  said  Jane, 
wildly,  "threw  away  my  affections  on  a  wretch — a  men 
imi^osioT — and  I  am  miserable  for  ever." 

"  No,  dear  Jane,"  rejoined  Emily,  having  recovered  her 
self-possession,  "  not  miserable — nor  for  ever.  You  have 
many,  very  many  sources  of  happiness  yet  within  your 
reach,  even  in  this  world.  I — I  do  think,  even  our  strongest 
attachments  may  be  overcome  by  energy  and  a  sense  of 
duty.  And  oh  !  how  I  wish  I  could  see  you  make  the 
effort." 

For  a  moment  the  voice  of  the  youthful  moralist  had 
failed  her  ;  but  anxiety  in  behalf  of  her  sister  overcame  her 
feehngs,  and  she  ended  the  sentence  with  earnestness. 


PRECAUTION.  345 

*'  Emily,"  said  Jane,  with  obstinacy,  and  yet  in  tears, 
"  you  don't  know  what  bhghted  affections  are.  To  endure 
the  scorn  of  the  world,  and  see  the  man  you  once  thought 
near  being  your  husband  married  to  another,  who  is  showing 
herself  in  triumph  before  you,  wherever  you  go  !" 

"  Hear  me,  Jane,  before  you  reproach  me  further,  and 
then  judge  between  us."  Emily  paused  a  moment  to 
acquire  nerve  to  proceed,  and  then  related  to  her  astonished 
sister  the  little  history  of  her  own  disappointments.  She 
did  not  affect  to  conceal  her  attachment  for  Denbigh.  With 
glowing  cheeks  she  acknowledged,  that  she  found  a  necessity 
for  all  her  efforts  to  keep  her  rebellious  feelings  yet  in 
subjection ;  and  as  she  recounted  generally  his  conduct  to 
Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  she  concluded  by  saying,  "  But,  Jane,  I  can 
see  enough  to  call  forth  my  gratitude  ;  and  although,  with 
yourself,  I  feel  at  this  moment  as  if  my  affections  were 
sealed  for  ever,  I  wish  to  make  no  hasty  resolutions,  nor  act 
in  any  manner  as  if  I  were  unworthy  of  the  lot  Providence 
has  assigned  me." 

"  Unworthy  ?  no  ! — you  have  no  reasons  for  self-reproach. 
If  Mr.  Denbigh  has  had  the  art  to  conceal  his  crimes  from 
you,  he  did  it  to  the  rest  of  the  world  also,  and  has  married 
a  woman  of  rank  and  character.  But  how  differently  are 
we  situated  !     Emily — I — I  have  no  such  consolation." 

"  You  have  the  consolation,  my  sister,  of  knowing  there 
is  an  interest  made  for  you  where  we  all  require  it  most, 
and  it  is  there  I  endeavor  to  seek  my  support,"  said  Emily, 
in  a  low  and  humble  tone.  "  A  j-eview  of  our  own  errors 
takes  away  the  keenness  of  our  perception  of  the  wrongs 
done  us,  and  by  placing  us  in  charity  with  the  rest  of  the 
world,  disposes  us  to  enjoy  calmly  the  blessings  within  our 
reach.  Besides,  Jane,  we  have  parents  whose  happiness  is 
locked  up  in  that  of  their  children,  and  we  should-— we  rausi 
lo* 


346  PRECAUTION. 

overcome  the  feelings  whicli  disqualify  us  for  our  common 
duties,  on  their  account." 

"  Ah  !"  cried  Jane,  "  how  can  I  move  about  in  the  world, 
while  I  know  the  eyes  of  all  are  on  me,  in  curiosity  to  dis- 
cover how  I  bear  ray  disappointments.  But  you,  Emily 
are  unsuspected.  It  is  easy  for  you  to  afiect  a  gaiety  you 
do  not  feel." 

"I  neither  affect  nor  feel  any  gaiety,"  said  her  sister, 
mildly.  "  But  are  there  not  the  eyes  of  One  on  us,  of 
infinitely  more  po^ver  to  punish  or  reward  than  vrhat  may  be 
found  in  the  opinions  of  the  world  ?  Have  we  no  duties  ? 
For  what  is  our  wealth,  our  knowledge,  our  time  given  us, 
but  to  improve  for  our  own  and  for  the  eternal  welfare  of 
those  around  us  ?  Come  then,  my  sister,  we  have  both  been 
deceived — let  us  endeavor  not  to  be  culpable." 

"  I  wish,  from  my  soul,  we  could  leave  Bath,"  cried  Jane. 
*'  The  place,  the  people  are  hateful  to  me  !" 

"  Jane,"  said  Emily,  "  rather  say  you  hate  their  vices,  and 
wish  for  their  amendment :  but  do  not  indiscriminately  con- 
demn a  whole  community  for  the  wrongs  you  have  sustained 
from  one  of  its  members." 

Jane  allowed  herself  to  be  consoled,  though  by  no  means 
convinced,  by  this  effort  of  her  sister ;  and  they  both  found 
a  relief  by  thus  unburdening  their  hearts  to  each  other,  that 
in  future  brought  them  more  nearly  together,  and  was  of 
mutual  assistance  in  supporting  them  in  the  promiscuous 
circles  in  which  they  were  obliged  to  mix. 

With  all  her  fortitude  and  principle,  one  of  the  last  things 
Emily  would  have  desired  was  an  interview  with  Denbigh 
and  she  was  happily  relieved  from  the  present   danger  of  it 
by  the  departure  of  Lady  Laura  and  her  brother,  to  go  to 
the  residence  of  the  Colonel's  sick  uncle. 

Both  Mrs.  Wilson  and   Emily  suspected  that  a  dread  of 


PRECAUTION.  347 

meeting  them  had  detained  him  from  his  intended  journey 
to  Bath  ;  and  neither  was  sorry  to  perceive,  what  they  con- 
sidered as  latent  signs  of  grace — a  grace  of  which  Egerton 
appeared  entirely  to  be  without. 

"  He  may  yet  see  his  errors,  and  make  a  kind  and  affec 
ionat"  husband,"  thought  Emily ;  and  then,  as  the  imag 
(f  Denbigh   rose  in  her  imagination,  sun-ounded  with   th 
coraestic  virtues,   she   roused   herself  from  the    dangerous 
reflection  to  the  exercise  of  the  duties  in  which  she  found  a 
refuge  from  impardonable  wishes. 


348  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  XXXY. 

Nothing  material  occurred  for  a  fortnight  after  the  de- 
parture of  Lady  Laura,  the  Moseleys  entering  soberly  into 
the  amusements  of  the  place,  and  Derwent  and  Chatterton 
becoming  more  pointed  every  day  in  their  attentions — thii 
one  to  Emily,  and  the  other  to  Lady  Harriet ;  when  the 
dowager  received  a  pressing  entreaty  from  Catherine  to  hasten 
to  her  at  Lisbon,  where  her  husband  had  taken  up  his  abode  for 
a  time,  after  much  doubt  and  indecision  as  to  his  place  of 
residence.  Lady  Herriefield  stated  generally  in  her  letter, 
that  she  was  miserable,  and  that  without  the  support  of  her 
mother  she  could  not  exist  under  the  present  grievances ; 
but  what  was  the  cause  of  those  grievances,  or  what  grounds 
she  had  for  her  misery,  she  left  unexplained. 

Lady  Chatterton  was  not  wanting  in  maternal  regard,  and 
she  promptly  determined  to  proceed  to  Portugal  in  the  next 
packet.  John  felt  inclined  for  a  httle  excursion  with  his 
bride ;  and  out  of  compassion  to  the  baron,  who  was  in  a 
dilemma  between  his  duty  and  his  love  (for  Lady  Harriet 
about  that  time  was  particularly  attractive),  he  offered  his 
services. 

Chatterton  allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded  by  the  good- 
natured  John,  that  his  mother  could  safely  cross  the  ocean 
under  the  protection  of  the  latter.  Accordingly,  at  the  end 
f  the  before  mentioned  fortnight,  the  dowager,  John,  Grace, 
and  Jane,  commenced  their  journey  to  Falmouth. 

Jane  had  offered  to  accompany  Grace,  as  a  companion  2£ 
her  return  (it  being  expected  Lady  Chatterton  would  remai  ^ 


PRECAUTION.  349 

in  the  country  with  her  daughter)  ;  and  her  parents  appreciat- 
ing her  motives,'  permitted  the  excursion,  with  a  hope  it 
would  draw  her  thoughts  from  past  events. 

Although  Grace  shed  a  few  tears  at  parting  with  Emily 
and  her  friends,  it  was  impossible  for  Mrs.  Moseley  to  be  long 
unhappy,  with  the  face  of  John  smiling  by  her  side;  and 
they  pursued  their  route  uninterruptedly.  In  due  season 
they  reached  the  port  of  embarkation. 

The  following  morning  the  packet  got  under  weigh,  and  a 
favorable  breeze  soon  wafted  them  out  of  sight  of  their  native 
shores.  The  ladies  \^ere  too  much  indisposed  the  first  day 
to  appear  on  the  deck ;  but  the  weather  becoming  calm  and 
the  sea  smooth,  Grace  and  Jane  ventured  out  of  the  con- 
finement of  their  state-rooms,  to  respire  the  fresh  air 
above. 

There  were  but  few  passengers,  and  those  chiefly  ladies — 
the  wives  of  officers  on  foreign  stations,  on  their  way  to  join 
their  husbands.  As  these  had  been  accustomed  to  moving  in 
the  world,  their  disposition  to  accommodate  soon  removed 
the  awkwardness  of  a  first  meeting,  and  our  travellers  began 
to  be  at  home  in  their  novel  situation. 

While  Grace  stood  leaning  on  the  arm  of  her  husband,  and 
clinging  to  his  support,  both  from  affection  and  a  dread  of  the 
motion  of  the  vessel,  Jane  ventured  with  one  of  the  ladies  to 
attempt  a  walk  round  the  deck  of  the  ship.  Unaccustomed 
to  such  an  uncertain  foothold,  the  walkers  were  preven'^^ed 
falling  by  the  kind  interposition  of  a  gentleman,  who  for  the 
first  time  had  shown  himself  among  them  at  that  moment. 
The  accident,  and  their  situation,  led  to  a  conversation  which 
was  renewed  at  different  times  during  their  passage,  and  in 
some  measure  created  an  intimacy  between  our  party  and  the 
stranger.  He  was  addressed  b'"  the  ccmraander  of  the  vessel 
as  Mr.  Harland ;  and  Lady  Chatterton  exercised  her  inge- 


350  PRECAUTION. 

nuity  in  the  investigation  of  his  history,  by  which  she  made 
the  following  discovery : 

The  Rev.  and  Hon.  Mr.  Harland  was  the  yoiinger  son  of 
an  Irish  earl,  who  had  early  embraced  his  sacred  profession 
in  tliat  church,  in  which  he  held  a  valuable  living  in  the  gift 
of  his  father's  family.  His  father  was  yet  alive,  and  then  at 
Lisbon  with  his  mother  and  sister,  in  attendance  on  his  elder 
brother,  who  had  been  sent  there  in  a  deep  decline  a  couple 
of  months  before.  It  had  been  the  wish  of  his  parents  to 
have  taken  all  their  children  with  them  ;  but  a  sense  of  duty 
had  kept  the  young  clergyman  in  the  exercise  of  his  holy 
office,  mitil  a  request  of  his  dying  brother,  and  the  directions 
of  his  father,  caused  him  to  hasten  abroad  to  witness  the 
decease  of  the  one,  and  to  afford  all  the  solace  within  his 
power  to  the  others. 

It  may  be  easily  imagined  that  the  discovery  of  the  rank 
of  their  accidental  acquaintance,  with  the  almost  certainty 
that  existed  of  his  being  the  heir  of  his  father's  honors,  in  no 
degree  impaired  his  consequence  in  the  eyes  of  the  dowager ; 
and  it  is  certain,  his  visible  anxiety  and  depressed  spirits,  his 
unaffected  piety,  and  disinterested  hopes  for  his  brother's 
recovery,  no  less  elevated  him  in  the  opinions  of  her  com- 
panions. 

There  was,  at  the  moment,  a  kind  of  sympathy  between 
Harland  and  Jane,  notwithstanding  the  melancholy  which 
gave  rise  to  it  proceeding  from  such  very  different  causes; 
and  as  the  lady,  although  with  diminished  bloom,  retained  all 
her  personal  charms,  rather  heightened  than  otherwise  by 
the  softness  of  low  spirits,  the  young  clergyman  sometimes 
relieved  his  apprehensions  of  his  brother's  death  by  admitting 
the  image  of  Jane  among  his  more  melancholy  reflections. 

The  voyage  was  tedious,  and  some  time  before  it  was  ended 
tile  dowager  had  given  Grace  an  intimation  of  the  probabihty 


PREOAUTION.  351 

there  was  of  Jane's  becoming,  at  some  future  day,  a  countess 
Grace  sincerely  hoped  that  whatever  she  became  she  would 
be  as  happy  as  she  thought  all  allied  to  John  deserved  to  be. 

They  entered  the  bay  of  Lisbon  early  in  the  morning  ;  and 
as  the  ship  had  been  expected  for  some  days,  a  boat  came 
alongside  with  a  note  for  Mr.  Harbnd,  before  they  had  an- 
chored. It  apprised  him  of  the  death  of  his  brother.  The 
young  man  threw  himself  precipitately  into  it,  and  was  soon 
employed  in  one  of  the  loveliest  offices  of  his  vocation,  that 
of  healing  the  wounds  of  the  afflicted. 

Lady  Herriefield  received  her  mother  in  a  sort  of  sullen 
satisfaction,  and  her  companions  with  an  awkwardness  she 
could  ill  conceal.  It  requiied  no  great  observation  in  the 
travellers  to  discover,  that  their  arrival  was  entirely  unex- 
pected by  the  viscount,  if  it  were  not  equally  disagreeable  , 
indeed,  one  day's  residence  under  his  roof  assured  them  all 
that  no  great  degree  of  domestic  felicity  was  an  inmate  of  the 
dwelHng. 

From  the  moment  Lord  Herriefield  became  suspicious  that 
he  had  been  the  dupe  of  the  management  of  Kate  and  her 
mother,  he  viewed  every  act  of  his  wife  with  a  prejudiced 
eye.  It  was  easy,  with  his  knowledge  of  human  nature,  to 
detect  her  selfishness  and  worldly-mindedness ;  for  as  these 
were  faults  she  was  unconscious  of  possessing,  so  she  was 
unguarded  in  her  exposure  of  them.  But  her  designs,  in  a 
matrimonial  point  of  view,  having  ended  with  her  marriao-e, 
had  the  viscount  treated  her  with  any  of  the  courtesies  due 
her  sex  and  station,  she  might,  \vith  her  disposition,  have 
been  contented  in  the  enjoyment  of  rank  and  in  the  possession 
of  wealth ;  but  their  more  private  hours  were  invariably 
rendei-ed  unpleasant,  by  the  ovei-flowings  of  her  husband's 
resentment  at  having  been  deceived  'n  his  judgment  of  tho 
female  sex. 


'i52  PRECAUTION. 

There  is  no  point  upon  which  men  are  more  tender  than 
their  privilege  of  suiting  themselves  in  a  partner  for  life, 
although  many  of  both  sexes  are  influenced  in  this  important 
selection  more  by  tlie  wishes  and  whims  of  others  than  is 
asually  suspected ;  yet,  as  all  imagine  what  is  the  result  of 
contrivance  and  management  is  the  election  of  free  will  and 
taste,  so  long  as  they  are  ignorant,  they  are  contented,  ^^ord 
Herriefield  w^anted  this  bliss  of  ignorance ;  and,  with  con- 
tempt for  his  wife,  was  mingled  anger  at  his  own  want  of 
foresight. 

Very  few  people  can  tamely  submit  to  self  reproach  ;  and 
as  the  cause  of  this  irritated  state  of  mind  was  both  not  only 
constantly  present,  but  completely  within  his  power,  the 
viscount  seemed  determined  to  give  her  as  little  reason  to 
exult  in  the  success  of  her  plans  as  possible.  Jealous  he 
was,  from  temperament,  from  bad  associations,  and  a  want 
of  confidence  in  the  principles  of  his  wife,  the  freedom  of 
foreign  manners  having  an  additional  tendency  to  excite 
this  baneful  passion  to  an  unusual  degree.  Abiidged  in  her 
pleasures,  reproached  with  motives  she  was  incapable  of 
harboring,  and  disappointed  in  all  those  enjoyments  her 
mother  had  ever  led  her  to  believe  the  invariable  accompani- 
ments of  married  life,  where  proper  attention  had  been  paid 
to  the  necessary  qualifications  of  riches  and  rank,  Kate  had 
written  to  the  dowager  with  the  hope  her  presence  might 
restrain,  or  her  advice  teach  her,  successfully  to  oppose  th 
unfeeling  conduct  of  the  viscount. 

Lady  Chatterton  never  having  implanted  any  of  hei 
favorite  systems  in  her  daughter,  so  much  by  precept  as  b) 
the  force  of  example  in  her  own  person,  as  well  as  by  indi- 
rect eulogiums  on  certain  people  who  were  endowed  with 
those  qualities  and  blessings  she  most  admired,  on  the 
present  occasion  Catherine  did  not  uiiburden  hei*self  in  terms 


PRECAUTION.  353 

to  her  mother ;  but  by  a  regular  gradation  of  complaints, 
aimed  more  at  the  world  than  at  her  husband,  she  soon  let 
the  knowing  dowager  see  their  application,  and  m  the  end 
completely  removed  the  veil  from  her  domestic  grievances. 

The  example  of  John  and  Grace  for  a  short  time  awed 
the  peer  into  dissembling  his  disgust  for  his  spouse ;  but 
the  ice  once  broken,  their  presence  soon  ceased  to  affect 
either  the  frequency  or  the  severity  of  his  remarks,  when 
under  its  influence. 

From  such  exhibitions  of  matrimonial  discord,  Grace 
shrank  timidly  into  the  retirement  of  her  room,  and  Jane, 
with  dignity,  would  follow  her  example  ;  while  John  at  times 
became  a  listener,  with  a  spirit  barely  curbed  within  the 
bounds  of  prudence,  and  at  others,  he  sought  in  the  com- 
pany of  his  wife  and  sister,  relief  from  the  violence  of  his 
feehngs. 

John  never  admired  nor  respected  Catherine,  for  she 
wanted  those  very  qualities  he  chiefly  loved  in  her  sister  ; 
yet,  as  she  was  a  w^oman,  and  one  nearly  connected  with 
him,  he  found  it  impossible  to  remain  a  quiet  spectator  of 
the  unmanly  treatment  she  often  received  from  her  husband ; 
he  therefore  made  preparations  for  his  return  to  England  by 
the  first  packet,  abridging  his  intended  residence  in  Lisbon 
more  than  a  month. 

Lady  Chatterton  endeavored  all  within  her  power  to  heal 
the  breach  between  Kate  and  her  husband,  but  it  greatly 
exceeded  her  abilities.  It  was  too  late  to  implant  such 
principles  in  her  daughter,  as  by  a  long  course  of  self-denial 
and  submission  might  have  won  the  love  of  the  viscount, 
had  the  mother  been  acquainted  with  them  herself;  so  that 
having  induced  her  child  to  marry  with  a  view  to  obtaining 
precedence  and  a  jointure,  she  once  more  set  to  work  to 
undo  part  of  hei  former  labors,  by  bringing  about  a  decent 


354  PRECAUTION. 

separation  between  the  husband  and  wife,  in  such  a  mannef 
as  to  secure  to  her  child  the  possession  of  her  wealth,  and 
the  esteem  of  the  world.  The  latter,  though  certainly  a 
somewhat  difficult  undertaking,  was  greatly  lessened  by  the 
assistance  of  the  former. 

John  and  his  wife  determined  to  seize  the  opportunity  to 
examine  the  environs  of  the  city.  In  one  of  these  daily 
rides,  they  met  their  fellow  traveller,  Mr.  now  Lord  Harland. 
He  was  rejoiced  to  see  them  again,  and  hearing  of  their 
intended  departure,  informed  them  of  his  being  about  to 
return  to  England  in  the  same  vessel — his  parents  and  sister 
contemplating  ending  the  winter  in  Portugal. 

The  intercourse  between  the  two  families  was  kept  up 
with  a  show  of  civihties  between  the  noblemen,  and  much 
real  good-will  on  the  part  of  the  juniors  of  the  circle,  until 
the  day  arrived  for  the  sailing  of  the  packet. 

Lady  Chatterton  was  left  behind  with  Catherine,  as  yet 
unable  to  circumvent  her  schemes  with  prudence  ;  it  being 
deemed  by  the  world  a  worse  offence  to  separate,  than  to 
join  together  one's  children  in  the  bands  of  wedlock. 

The  confinement  of  a  vessel  is  very  propitious  to  those 
intimacies  which  lead  to  attachments.  The  necessity  of 
being  agreeable  is  a  check  upon  the  captious,  and  the  desire 
to  lessen  the  dulness  of  the  scene  a  stimulus  to  the  lively  ; 
and  though  the  noble  divine  and  Jane  could  not  possibly  be 
ranked  in  either  class,  the  effect  was  the  same.  The  noble- 
man was  much  enamored,  and  Jane  unconsciously  gratified. 
It  is  true,  love  had  never  entered  her  thoughts  in  its  direct 
and  unequivocal  form ;  but  admiration  is  so  consoling  to 
those  laboring  under  self-condemnation,  and  flattery  of  a 
certain  kind  so  very  soothing  to  all,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
that  she  listened  with  increasino-  pleasure  to  the  interesting 
conversation  of  HaFland  on    all   occasions,   and  more   par 


PRECAUTION.  355 

ticularly,  as  often  happened,  when  exclusively  addressed  to 
herself. 

Grace  had  of  late  reflected  more  seriously  on  the  subject 
of  her  eternal  welfare  than  she  had  been  accustomed  to  do 
in  the  house  of  her  mother ;  and  the  example  of  Emily, 
with  the  precepts  of  Mrs.  Wilson,  had  not  been  thrown 
away  upon  her.  It  is  a  singular  fact,  that  more  women  feel 
a  disposition  to  religion  soon  after  marriage  than  at  any 
other  period  of  life ;  and  whether  it  is,  that  having  attained 
the  most  important  station  this  life  affords  the  sex,  they  are 
more  willing  to  turn  their  thoughts  to  a  provision  for  the 
next,  or  whether  it  be  owing  to  any  other  cause,  Mrs.  Mose- 
ley  was  included  in  the  number.  She  became  sensibly 
touched  with  her  situation,  and  as  Harland  was  both  devout 
and  able  as  well  as  anxious  to  instruct,  one  of  the  party, 
at  least,  had  cause  to  rejoice  in  the  journey  for  the  remainder 
of  her  days.  But  precisely  as  Grace  increased  in  her  own 
faith,  so  did  her  anxiety  after  the  welfare  of  her  husband 
receive  new  excitement ;  and  John,  for  the  first  time,  became 
the  cause  of  sorrow  to  his  affectionate  companion. 

The  deep  interest  Harland  took  in  the  opening  conviction 
of  Mrs.  Moseley,  did  not  so  entirely  engross  his  thoughts  as 
to  prevent  the  too  frequent  contemplation  of  the  charms  of 
her  friend  for  his  own  peace  of  mind  ;  and  by  the  time  the 
vessel  reached  Falmouth,  he  had  determined  to  make  a 
tender  of  his  hand  and  title  to  the  acceptance  of  Miss  Mose- 
ley. Jane  did  not  love  Egerton ;  on  the  contrary,  she 
despised  him ;  but  the  time  had  been,  when  all  her  romantic 
feehngs,  every  thought  of  her  brilliant  imagination,  had  been 
filled  with  his  image,  and  Jane  felt  it  a  species  of  indelicacy 
to  admit  the  impression  of  another  so  soon,  or  even  at  all. 
These  objections  would,  in  time,  have  been  overcome,  as  her 
affections   became  raor<*   and  more  enlisted  on  behalf   of 


356  PRECAUTIOW. 

Harland,  had  she  admitted  his  addresses ;  but  there  was  an 
impediment  that  Jane  considered  insurmountable  to  a  union 
with  any  man. 

She  had  once  communicated  her  passion  to  its  object. 
There  had  been  the  confidence  of  approved  love  ;  and  she  had 
now  no  heart  for  Harland,  but  one  that  had  avowedly  been 
a  slave  to  another.  To  conceal  this  from  him  would  be 
unjust,  and  not  reconcilable  to  good  faith ;  to  confess  it, 
humiliating,  and  without  the  pale  of  probabihty.  It  was  the 
misfortune  of  Jane  to  keep  the  world  too  constantly  before 
her,  and  to  lose  sight  too  much  of  her  really  depraved  nature, 
to  relish  the  idea  of  humbling  herself  so  low  in  the  opinion  of 
a  fellow-creature.  The  refusal  of  Harland's  offer  was  the 
consequence,  although  she  had  beglm  to  feel  an  esteem  for 
him,  that  would  no  doubt  have  given  rise  to  an  attachment 
in  time,  far  stronger  and  more  deeply  seated  than  her  passing 
fancy  for  Colonel  Egerton  had  been. 

If  the  horror  of  imposing  on  the  credulity  of  Harland  a 
wounded  heart,  was  creditable  to  Jane,  and  showed  an  ele- 
vation of  character  that  under  proper  guidance  would  have 
placed  her  in  the  first  ranks  of  her  sex  ;  the  pride  which  con- 
demned her  to  a  station  nature  did  not  design  her  for  was 
h-r/BConcilable  with  the  humility  a  just  view  of  her  condition 
could  not  fail  to  produce ;  and  the  second  sad  consequence 
of  the  indulgent  weakness  of  her  parents,  was  confirming 
their  child  in  passions  directly  at  variance  with  the  first  dutie. 
of  a  Christian. 

We  have  so  little  right  to  value  ourselves  on  anything 
that  piide  is  a  sentiment  of  very  doubtful  service,  and  one 
certainly,  that  is  unable  to  effect  any  useful  results  which  wil. 
not  equally  flow  from  good  principles. 

Harland  was  disappointed  and  grieved,  but  prudently 
judging  that  occupation  and  absence  would  remove  recollec 


PRECAUTION.  357 

tions  which  could  not  be  very  deep,  they  parted  at  Falmouth, 

and  our   ti-avellers  proceeded  on  their  journey  for  B , 

whither,  during  their  absence,  Sir  Edward's  family  had 
returned  to  spend  a  month,  before  they  removed  to  town  for 
the  residue  of  the  winter. 

The  meeting  of  the  two  parties  was  warm  and  tender,  and 
as  Jane  had  many  things  to  recount,  and  John  as  many  to 
laugh  at,  their  arrival  threw  a  gaiety  around  Moseley  Hall  to 
which  it  had  for  months  been  a  stranger. 

One  of  the  first  acts  of  Grace,  after  her  return,  was  to  enter 
strictly  into  the  exercise  of  all  those  duties  and  ordinances 
required  by  her  church,  and  the  present  state  of  her  mind, 
.md  from  the  hands  of  Dr.  Ives  she  received  her  first  com- 
munion at  the  altar. 

As  the  season  had  now  become  far  advanced,  and  the 
fashionable  world  had  been  some  time  assembled  in  the  me- 
tropolis, the  Baronet  commenced  his  arrangements  to  take 
possession  of  his  town-house,  after  an  interval  of  nineteen 
years.  John  proceeded  to  the  capital  first ;  and  the  necessary 
domestics  procured,  furniture  supplied,  and  other  arrange- 
ments usual  to  the  appearance  of  a  wealthy  family  in  the 
world  having  been  completed,  he  returned  with  the  informa 
tion  that  all  was  ready  for  their  triumphal  entrance. 

Sir  Edward,  feeling  that  a  separation  for  so  long  a  time, 
and  at  such  an  unusual  distance,  in  the  very  advanced  age  of 
Mr.  Benfield,  would  be  improper,  paid  him  a  visit,  with  the 
intention  of  persuading  him  to  make  one  of  his  family  for  the 
next  four  months.  Emily  was  his  companion,  and  their  soli- 
citations were  happily  crowned  with  a  success  they  had  not 
anticipated.  Averse  to  be  deprived  of  Peter's  society,  the 
honest  steward  was  included  in  the  party. 

"  Nephew,"  said  Mr.  Benfield,  beginning  to  waver  in  his 
objections  to  the  undertaking,  as  the  arguments  pro  and  con 


358  PRECAUTION. 

were  produced,  "  there  are  instances  of  gentlemen,  not  in 
parliament,  going  to  town  in  the  winter,  I  know.  You  are 
one  yourself ;  and  old  Sir  John  Cowel,  who  never  could  get 
in,  although  he  ran  for  every  city  in  the  kingdom,  nevei 
missed  his  winter  in  Soho.  Yes,  yes — the  thing  is  admis- 
sible— but  had  I  known  your  wishes  before,  I  would  cer 
tainly  have  kept  my  borough  if  it  were  only  for  the  appear- 
ance of  the  thing — besides,"  continued  the  old  man,  shaking 
his  head,  "  his  majesty's  ministers  require  the  aid  of  some 
more  experienced  members  in  these  critical  times ;  for  what 
should  an  old  man  like  me  do  in  Westminster,  unless  it  were 
to  aid  his  country  with  his  advice  ?" 

"  Make  his  friends  happy  with  his  company,  dear  uncle,'* 
said  Emily,  taking  his  hand  between  both  her  own,  and 
smiling  affectionately  on  the  old  gentleman  as  she  spoke. 

"  Ah !  Emmy  dear !"  cried  Mr.  Benfield,  looking  on  her 
with  melancholy  pleasure,  "you  are  not  to  be  resisted — 
just  such  another  as  the  sister  of  my  old  friend  Lord  Gos- 
ford  ;  she  could  always  coax  me  out  of  anything.  I  remem- 
ber now,  I  heard  the  earl  tell  her  once  he  could  not  afford 
to  buy  a  pair  of  diamond  ear-rings ;  and  she  looked — only 
looked — did  not  speak !  Emmy  ! — that  I  bought  them  with 
intent  to  present  them  to  her  myself." 

"  And  did  she  take  them,  uncle  ?''  asked  his  niece,  in  a 
little  surprise. 

"  Oh  yes  !  When  I  told  her  if  she  did  not  I  would  throw 
iiem  into  the  river,  as  no  one  else  should  wear  what  had 
6een  intended  for  her ;  poor  soul !  how  delicate  and  unwil- 
ling she  was.  I  had  to  convince  her  they  cost  three  hundred 
pounds,  before  she  would  listen  to  it ;  and  then  she  though 
it  such  a  pity  to  throw  away  a  thing  of  so  much  value.  I 
would  have  been  wicked,  you  know,  Emmy,  dear ;  and  she 
was  much  opposed  to  wickedness  and  sin  in  any  shape.*' 


PRECAUTION.  359 

•*  Sne  must  have  been  a  very   unexceptionable  character 
indeed,"  cried  the  Baronet,  with  .i  m.ihe,  as  V  proceeded  to 
make  the  necessary  orders  for  tl\»^ir  lourucp.     ^'it  we  mus 
return  to  the  party  left  at  BatK 


^00  PBECAUTIOH. 


CHAPTER  XXXYl. 

The  letters  of  Lady  Laura  informed  her  friends,  that  sh 
and  Colonel  Denbigh  had  decided  to  remain  with  his  uncle 
until  the  recovery  of  the  latter  was  complete,  and  then  to 
proceed  to  Denbigh  Castle,  to  meet  the  Duke  and  his  sister 
during  the  approaching  holidays. 

Emily  was  much  relieved  by  this  postponement  of  an  inter- 
view which  she  would  gladly  have  avoided  for  ever;  and 
her  aunt  sincerely  rejoiced  that  her  niece  was  allowed  more 
time  to  eradicate  impressions,  which,  she  saw  with  pain,  her 
charge  had  yet  a  struggle  to  overcome. 

There  were  so  many  points  to  admire  in  the  character  of 
Denbigh  ;  his  friends  spoke  of  him  with  such  decided  par- 
tiality ;  Dr.  Ives,  in  his  frequent  letters,  alluded  to  him  with  so 
iTiuch  affection;  that  Emily  frequently  detected  herself  in 
weighing  the  testimony  of  his  guilt,  and  indulging  the  expec- 
tation that  circumstances  had  deceived  them  all  in  their 
judgment  of  his  conduct.  Then  his  marriage  would  cross 
her  mind ;  and  with  the  conviction  of  the  impropriety  of 
admitting  him  to  her  thoughts  at  all,  would  come  the  mass 
of  circumstantial  testimony  which  had  accumulated  against 
him. 

Derwent  served  greatly  to  keep  alive  the  recollections  of 
his  person,  however ;  and  as  Lady  Harriet  seemed  to  live 
only  in  the  society  of  the  Moseleys,  not  a  day  passed  without 
giving  the  Duke  some  opportunity  of  indirectly  preferring 
his  suit. 

Emily  not  only  appeared,  but  in  fact  was,  unconscious  of 


PRECAUTION.  3(3] 

hl^  admiration ;  and  entered  into  their  amusements  with  a 
satiblaction  thai  was  increased  by  the  behef  that  the  unfortu- 
nate auachmcrt  her  cousin  Chatterton  had  once  professed  for 
herself,  was  forgotten  in  the  more  certain  enjoyments  of  a 
uccessful  love. 

Lady  Harriet  was  a  woman  of  manners  and  character  very 
different  horn  Emily  Moseley ;  yet  had  she  in  a  great  mea 
sure  erased  tht'  impressions  made  by  the  beauty  of  his  kins 
woman  frorii  tJie  bosom  of  the  baron. 

Chatterton.  under  the  depression  of  his  first  disappoint 

ment,  it  will   be  remembered,  had  left  B in  company 

with  Mr.  DenLigh.  The  interest  of  the  duke  had  been  unac- 
countably exerted  to  procure  him  the  place  he  had  so  long 
Solicited  in  vdn,  and  gratitude  required  his  early  acknow-, 
ledgments  for  the  favor.  His  manner,  so  very  different  from 
a  successful  apphcant  for  a  valuable  office,  had  struck  both 
Derwent  and  his  sister  as  singular.  Before,  however,  a  week's 
intercourse  had  passed  between  them,  his  own  frankness  had 
made  them  acquainted  with  the  cause ;  and  a  double  wish 
prevailed  in  the  bosom  of  Lady  Harriet,  to  know  the  woman 
who  could  resist  the  beauty  of  Chatterton,  and  to  relieve  him 
from  the  weight  imposed  on  his  spirits  by  disappointed 
affection. 

The  manners  of  Lady  Harriet  Denbigh  were  not  in  the 
teast  forward  or  masculine ;  but  they  had  the  freedom  of  high 
vank,  mingled  with  a  good  deal  of  the  ease  of  fashionable  life 
Mrs.  Wilson  noticed,  moreover,  in  her  conduct  to  Chatterton, 
«.  something  exceeding  the  interest  of  ordinary  communica- 
tions in  their  situation,  which  might  possibly  have  been  attri- 
buted more  to  feeling  than  to  manner.  It  is  certain,  one  of 
the  surest  methods  to  drive  Emily  from  his  thoughts,  was  to 
dwell  on  the  perfections  of  some  other  lady ;  and  Lady  Har- 
riet was  so  constantly  before  him  in  his  visit  into  Westmore 
16 


362  PRECAUTION. 

land,  so  soothing,  so  evidently  pleased  with  his  presence,  thai 
the  baron  made  rapid  advances  in  attaining  his  object. 

He  had  alluded,  in  his  letter  to  Emily,  to  the  obligation  he 
was  under  to  the  services  of  Denbigh,  in  erasing  his  unfortu- 
nate partiality  for  her :  but  what  those  services  were,  we  are 
unable  to  say,  unless  they  were  the  usual  arguments  of  the 
plainest  good  sense,  enforced  in  the  singularly  insinuating  and 
kind  manner  which  distinguished  that  gentleman.  In  fact. 
Lord  Chatterton  was  not  formed  by  nature  to  love  long,  de- 
prived of  hope,  or  to  resist  long  the  flattery  of  a  preference 
from  such  a  woman  as  Harriet  Denbigh. 

On  the  other  hand,  Derwent  was  warm  in  his  encomiums 
on  Emily  to  all  but  herself;  and  Mrs.  Wilson  again  thought 
it  prudent  to  examine  into  the  state  of  her  feelings,  in  order 
to  discover  if  there  was  any  danger  of  his  unremitted  efforts 
dra\Ying  Emily  into  a  connexion  that  neither  her  religion  nor 
prudence  could  wholly  approve. 

Derwent  was  a  man  of  the  world — a  Christian  only  in 
name ;  and  the  cautious  widow  determined  to  withdraw  in 
season,  should  she  find  grounds  for  her  apprehensions. 

About  ten  days  after  the  departure  of  the  Dowager  and 
her  companions.  Lady  Harriet  exclaimed,  in  one  of  her  morn- 
ing visits — 

**  Lady  Moseley  !  I  have  now  hopes  of  presenting  to  you 
soon  the  most  polished  man  in  the  United  Kingdom !" 

"  As  a  husband !  Lady  Harriet  ?"  inquired  the  other 
with  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  no !  only  as  a  cousin,  a  second  cousin !  madam !' 
replied  Lady  Harriet,  blushing  a  little,  and  looking  in  th 
opposite  direction  to  the  one  in  wiiich  Chatterton  was  placed 

"  But  his  name  ?  You  forget  our  curiosity  !  What  is  his 
name  ?"  cried  Mrs.  Wilson,  entering  into  the  trifling  for  the 
moment 


PRECAUTION.  363 

"  Pendennyss,  to  be  sure,  my  dear  madam :  whom  else  can 
I  mean  ?" 

"  And  you  expect  the  earl  at  Bath  1"  Mrs.  Wilson  eagerly 
inquired. 

"  He  has  given  us  such  hopes,  and  Derwent  has  written 
im  to-day,  pressing  the  journey." 

"  You  will  be  disappointed,  I  am  afraid,  sister,'*  said  th 
duke.     "  Pendennyss  has  become  so  fond  of  Wales  of  late, 
that  it  is  difficult  to  get  him  out  of  it." 

"  But,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  he  will  take  his  seat  in  parlia- 
ment during  the  winter,  my  lord  ?" 

"  I  hope  he  will,  madam  ;  though  Lord  Eltringham  holds 
his  proxies,  in  my  absence,  in  all  important  questions  before 
the  house." 

"  Your  grace  will  attend,  I  trust,"  said  Sir  Edward.  "  The 
pleasure  of  your  company  is  among  my  expected  enjoyments 
in  the  town." 

"  You  are  very  good.  Sir  Edward,"  replied  the  duke,  look- 
ing at  Emily.  "  It  will  somewhat  depend  on  circumstance, 
I  believe." 

Lady  Harriet  smiled,  and  the  speech  seemed  understood 
by  all  but  the  lady  most  concerned  in  it. 

"  Lord  Pendennyss  is  a  universal  favorite,  and  deservedly 
so,"  cried  the  duke.  "  He  has  set  an  example  to  the  nobi- 
lity, which  few  are  equal  to  imitate.  An  only  son,  with  an 
immense  estate,  he  has  devoted  himself  to  the  profession  of  a 
soldier,  and  gained  great  reputation  by  it  in  the  world ;  noi 
has  he  neglected  any  of  his  private  duties  as  a  man " 

"  Or  a  Christian,  I  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Wil-son,  delighted 
with  the  praises  of  the  earl. 

"  Nor  of  a  Christian,  I  believe,"  continued  the  duke  ;  "  he 
appears  consistent,  humble,  and  sincere — three  requisites,  1 
believe,  for  that  character." 


364 


PRECAUTION. 


"  Does  not  your  grace  know  ?"  said  Emily,  with  a  benero* 
lent  smile 

Derwent  colored  slightly  as  he  answered — 

"Not  as  well  as  I  ought;  but" — lowering  his  voice  for 
Her  ear  alone,  he  added,  "  under  proper  instruction  I  think  I 
might  learn." 

"  Then  I  would  recommend  that  book  to  you,  my  lord,*' 
rejoined  Emily,  with  a  blush,  pointing  to  a  pocket  Bible 
which  lay  near  her,  though  still  ignorant  of  the  allusion  he 
meant  to  convey. 

"  May  I  ask  the  honor  of  an  audience  of  Miss  Moseley," 
said  Derwent,  in  the  same  low  tone,  "  whenever  her  leisure 
will  admit  of  her  granting  the  favor  ?" 

Emily  was  surprised ;  but  from  the  previous  conversation 
and  the  current  of  her  thoughts  at  the  moment,  supposing 
his  communication  had  some  reference  to  the  subject  before 
them,  she  rose  from  her  chair,  and  unobtrusively,  but  cer- 
tainly with  an  air  of  perfect  innocence  and  composure,  she 
went  into  the  adjoining  room,  the  door  of  which  was  open 
very  near  them. 

Caroline  Harris  had  abandoned  all  ideas  of  a  coronet 
with  the  departure  of  the  Marquess  of  Eltringham  and  his 
sisters  for  their  own  seat ;  and  as  a  final  effort  of  her  fading 
charms,  had  begun  to  calculate  the  capabilities  of  Captain 
Jarvis,who  had  at  this  time  honored  Bath  with  his  company 

It  is  true,  the  lady  would  have  greatly  preferred  her 
father's  neighbor,  but  that  was  an  irretrievable  step.  He 
had  retired,  disgusted  with  her  haughty  dismissal  of  his 
hopes,  and  was  a  man  who,  although  he  greatly  admired 
her  fortune,  was  not  to  be  recalled  by  any  beck  or  smile 
which  might  grow  out  of  caprice. 

Lady  Jarvis  had,  indeed,  rather  magnified  the  personal 


PRECAUTION.  365 

qualifications  of  her  son  ;  but  the  disposition  fney  had  mani- 
fested to  devote  some  of  their  surplus  wealth  to  purchasing 
a  title,  had  great  weight,  for  Miss  Harris  would  cheerfully, 
at  any  time,  have  sacrificed  one  half  her  own  fortune  to  be 
called  my  lady.  Jarvis  would  make  but  a  shabby-looking 
lord,  'tis  true  ;  but  then  what  a  lord's  wife  would  she  not 
make  herself!  His  father  was  a  merchant,  to  be  sure,  but 
then  merchants  were  always  immensely  rich,  and  a  few 
thousand  pounds,  properly  applied,  might  make  the  mer- 
chant's son  a  baron.  She  therefore  resolved  to  inquire,  the 
first  opportunity,  into  the  condition  of  the  sinking  fund  of  his 
plebeianism,  and  had  serious  thoughts  of  contributing  her 
mite  towards  the  advancement  of  the  desired  object,  did  she 
find  it  within  the  bounds  of  probable  success. 

An  occasion  soon  offered,  by  the  invitation  of  the  Captain 
to  accompany  him  in  an  excursion  in  the  tilbury  of  his 
brother-in-law. 

In  this  ride  they  passed  the  equipages  of  Lady  Harriet 
and  Mrs.  Wilson,  with  their  respective  mistresses,  taking  an 
airing.  In  passing  the  latter,  Jarvis  bowed  (for  he  had 
renewed  his  acquaintance  at  the  rooms,  without  daring  to 
visit  at  the  lodgings  of  Sir  Edward),  and  Miss  Harris  saw 
both  parties  as  they  dashed  by  them. 

"  You  know  the  Moseleys,  Caroline  ?"  said  Jarvis,  with 
the  freedom  her  manners  had  established  between  them. 

"  Yes,"  rephed  the  lady,  drawing  her  head  back  from  a 
view  of  the  carriages ;  "  what  fine  arms  those  of  the  Duke' 
are — and  the  coronet,  it  is  so  noble — so  rich — I  am  sure  if 
were  a  man,"  laying  great  emphasis  on  the  word — "  I  woul 
be  a  Lord." 

"  If  you  could,  you  mean,"  cried  the  captain. 

"  Could — why  money  will  buy  a  title,  you  know — only 
most  people  are  fonder  of  their  cash  than  of  honor." 


366  PRECAUTION. 

"  That*s  right,"  said  the  wireflecting  captain  ;  "  money  is 
the  thing,  after  all.  Now  what  do  you  suppose  our  last 
mess-bill  came  to?'' 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  of  eating  and  drinking,"  cried  Miss~Harris, 
in  affected  aversion;  "is  it  beneath  the  consideration  of 
nobility." 

"  Then  any  one  may  be  a  lord  for  m«,"  said  Jarvis,  drily 
"  if  they  are  not  to  eat  and  drink ;  why,  what  do  they  live 
for,  but  such  sort  of  things  !" 

"  A  soldier  lives  to  fight  and  gain  honor  and  distinction'* 
— for  his  wife — Miss  Harris  would  have  added,  had  she 
spoken  all  she  thought. 

"  A  poor  way  that  of  spending  a  man's  time,"  said  the 
Captain.  "  Now  there  is  Captain  Jones  in  our  regiment ; 
they  say  he  loves  fighting  as  much  as  eating  :  if  he  do,  he  is 
a  bloodthirsty  fellow." 

"You  know  how  intimate  I  am  with  your  dear  mother," 
continued  the  lady,  bent  on  the  principal  object ;  "  she  has 
made  me  acquainted  with  her  greatest  wish." 

"  Her  greatest  wish  !"  cried  the  Captain,  in  astonishment; 
"  why,  what  can  that  be  ? — a  new  coach  and  horses  ?" 

"  No,  I  mean  one  much  dearer  to  us — I  should  say,  to 
her,  than  any  such  trifles  :  she  has  told  me  of  the  plati." 

"  Plan  !"  said  Jarvis,  still  in  wonder,  "  what  plan  ?" 

"  About  the  fund  for  the  peerage,  you  know.  Of  course, 
the  thing  is  sacred  with  me,  as,  indeed,  I  am  equally  inte 
rested  with  you  all  in  its  success." 

Jarvis  eyed  her  with  a  knowing  look,  and  as  she  concluded, 
rolling  his  eyes  in  an  expression  of  significance,  he  said — 

'*  What,  serve  Sir  William  some  such  way,  eh  ?" 

"  I  will  assist  a  little,  if  it  be  necessary,  Henry,"  said  the 
lady,  tenderly,  "  although  my  mite  cannot  amount  to  a  great 
deal." 


PRECAUTIOIT.  367 

During  this  speech,  the  Captain  was  wondering  what  she 
%  -tild  mean  ;  but,  having  had  a  suspicion,  from  something 
tnat  had  fallen  from  his  mother,  that  the  lady  was  intended 
for  him  as  a  wife,  and  that  she  might  be  as  great  a  dupe  as 
Lady  Jarvis  herself,  he  was  resolved  to  know  the  whole,  and 
to  act  accordingly. 

"  I  think  it  might  be  made  to  do,"  he  replied,  evasiveh, 
in  order  to  discover  the  extent  of  his  companion's  informa- 
tion. 

''  Do !"  cried  Miss  Harris,  with  fervor,  "  it  cannot  fail ! 
How  much  do  you  suppose  will  be  wanting  to  buy  a  barony, 
for  instance  ?" 

"  Hem  !"  said  Jarvis ;  "  you  mean  more  than  we  have 
already  ?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Why,  about  a  thousand  pounds,  I  think,  will  do  it,  with 
what  we  have,"  said  Jarvis,  affecting  to  calculate. 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  cried  the  delighted  Caroline  ;  and  the  cap- 
tain grew  in  an  instant,  in  her  estimation,  three  inches 
higher  ; — quite  noble  in  his  air,  and,  in  short,  very  tolerably 
handsome. 

From  that  moment.  Miss  Harris,  in  her  own  mind,  had 
fixed  the  fate  of  Captain  Jarvis,  and  had  determined  to  be 
his  wife,  whenever  she  could  persuade  him  to  offer  himself; 
a  thing  she  had  no  doubt  of  accomphshing  with  comparative 
ase.  Not  so  the  Captain.  Like  all  weak  men,  there  was 
nothing  of  which  he  stood  more  in  terror  than  of  ridicule. 
He  had  heard  the  manoeuvres  of  Miss  Harris  laughed  at  by 
many  of  the  young  men  in  Bath,  and  was  by  no  means 
disposed  to  add  himself  to  the  food  for  mirth  of  these  wags; 
and,  indeed,  had  cultivated  her  acquaintance  with  a  kind  of 
bravado  to  some  of  his  bottle  companions,  in  order  to  show 
bis   abihty  to  oppose  all    her  arts,  when  most    exposed  tu 


368  PRECAUTION. 

them :  for  it  is  one  of  the  greatest  difficulties  to  the  success 
of  this  description  of  ladies,  that  their  characters  soon  become 
suspected,  and  do  them  infinitely  more  injury  than  all  their 
skill  in  their  vocation. 

With  these  views  in  the  respective  champions  the  campaign 
opened,  and  the  lady,  on  her  return,  acquainted  his  mother 
with  the  situation  of  the  privy  purse,  that  was  to  promote  hei 
darling  child  to  the  enviable  distinction  of  the  peerage.  Lady 
Jarvis  was  for  purchasing  a  baronetcy  on  the  spot,  with  wluit 
they  had,  under  the  impression  that  when  ready  for  anotlier 
promotion  they  would  only  have  to  pay  the  difference,  as 
they  did  in  the  army  when  he  received  his  captaincy.  As, 
however,  the  son  was  opposed  to  any  arrangement  that  might 
make  the  producing  the  few  hundred  pounds  he  had  obtained 
from  his  mother's  folly  necessary,  she  was  obliged  to  post- 
pone the  wished-for  da}',  until  their  united  efforts  could  com- 
pass the  means  of  effecting  the  main  point.  As  an  earnest, 
however,  of  her  spirit  in  the  cause,  she  gave  him  a  fifty  pound 
note,  that  morning  obtained  from  her  husband,  and  which 
the  Captain  lost  at  one  throw  of  the  dice  to  his  brother-in- 
law  the  same  evening. 

During  the  preceding  events,  Egerton  had  either  studi- 
ously avoided  all  collision  with  the  Moseleys,  or  his  engage- 
ments had  confined  him  to  such  very  different  scenes,  that 
they  never  met. 

The  Baronet  had  felt  his  presence  a  reproach,  and  Lady 
'Moseley  rejoiced  that  Egerton  yet  possessed  sufficient  shame 
to  keep  him  from  insulting  her  with  his  company. 

It  was  a  month  after  the  departure  of  Lady  Chatterton 
that  Sir  Edward  returned  to  B ,  as  related  in  the  pre- 
ceding chapter,  and  that  the  arrangements  for  the  London 
mnter  were  commenced. 

The  day  preceding  their  leaving  Bath,  the  engagement  of 


PRECAUTION.  369 

Chatterton  with  Lady  Harriet  was  made  public  amongst  their 
mutual  friends,  and  an  intimation  was  given  that  their  nup- 
tials would  be  celebrated  before  the  family  of  the  Duke  left 
his  seat  for  the  capital. 

Something  of  the  pleasure  that  she  had  for  a  long  time 
been  a  stranger  to,  was  felt  by  Emily  Moseley,  as  the  well 

remembered  tower  of  the  village  church  of  B struck  her 

sight  on  their  retui-n  from  their  protracted  excursion.  More 
than  four  months  had  elapsed  since  they  had  commenced 
their  travels,  and  in  that  period  what  changes  of  sentiments 
had  she  not  witnessed  in  others ;  of  opinions  of  mankind  in 
general,  and  of  one  individual  in  particular,  had  she  not 
expei'ienced  in  her  own  person.  The  benevolent  smiles,  the 
respectful  salutations  they  received,  in  passing  the  little  group 
of  houses  which,  clustered  round  the  church,  had  obtained 
the  name  of  "  the  village,"  conveyed  a  sensation  of  delight 
that  can  only  be  felt  by  the  deserving  and  virtuous ;  and  the 
smiling  faces,  in  several  instances  glistening  with  tears,  which 
met  them  at  the  Hall,  gave  ample  testimony  to  the  worth  of 
both  the  master  and  his  servants. 

Francis  and  Clara  were  in  waiting  to  receive  them,  and  a 
very  few  minutes  elapsed  before  the  rector  and  Mrs.  Ives, 
having  heard  they  had  passed,  drove  in  also.  In  saluting  the 
different  members  of  the  foniily,  Mrs.  Wilson  noticed  the 
startled  look  of  the  doctor,  as  the  change  in  Emily's  appear- 
ance first  met  his  eyes.  Hur  bloom,  if  not  gone,  was  greatly 
diminished ;  and  it  was  only  when  under  the  excitement  of 
strong  emotions,  that  her  face  possessed  that  radiance  which 
had  so  eminently  distinguished  it  before  her  late  journey. 

"  Where  did  you  last  see  my  friend  George  ?"   said  the . 
Doctor  to  Mrs.  Wilson,  in  the  course  of  the  first  afternoon, 
as  he  took  a  seat  by  her  side,  apart  from  the   rest  of  the 
famiK 

16* 


370  PRECAUTION. 

"  At  L ,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  gravely. 

"L !"  cried  the  doctor,  in  evident  amazement.    "Wa> 

he  not  at  Bath  then  during  yom-  stay  there  ?" 

"  No ;  I  understand  he  was  in  attendance  on  some  sick 
relative,  which  detained  him  from  his  friends,"  said  Mrs.  Wil- 
son, wondering  why  the  doctor  chose  to  introduce  so  delicate 
a  topic.  Of  his  guilt  in  relation  to  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  he  was 
doubtless  ignorant,  but  surely  not  of  his  marriage. 

"  It  is  now  some  time  since  I  heard  from  him,"  continued 
the  doctor,  regarding  Mrs.  Wilson  expressively,  but  to  which 
the  lady  only  rephed  with  a  gentle  inclination  of  the  body ; 
and  the  Rector,  after  pausing  a  moment,  continued  : 

"  You  will  not  think  me  impertinent  if  I  am  bold  enough 
to  ask,  has  George  ever  expressed  a  wish  to  become  con- 
nected with  your  niece  by  other  ties  than  those  of  friend- 
ship ?" 

"  He  did,"  answered  the  widow,  after  a  little  hesitation. 

''He  did,  and—" 

"Was  refused,"  continued  Mrs.  Wilson,  with  a  slight 
feeling  for  the  dignity  of  her  sex,  which  for  a  moment  caused 
her  to  lose  sio;ht  of  iustice  to  Denbiofh. 

Dr.  Ives  was  silent ;  but  manifested  by  his  dejected  coun- 
tenance the  interest  he  had  taken  in  this  anticipated  connex- 
ion, and  as  Mrs.  Wilson  had  spoken  with  ill-concealed  reluc- 
tance on  the  subject  at  all,  the  Rector  did  not  attempt  a 
renewal  of  the  disagreeable 


PRECAUTION.  37  J 


CHAPTER  XXXYII. 

"  SiV-VENSON  has  returned,  and  I  certainly  must  hear  from 
Harrif/.,"  exclaimed  the  sister  of  Pendennyss,  as  she  stood  at 
a  wiij/Mw  watching  the  return  of  a  servant  from  the  neigh- 
borivifj  post-office. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  rejoined  the  Earl,  who  was  seated  by  the 
brc'ikfar.t  table,  waiting  the  leisure  of  the  lady  to  give  him 
his  cup  of  tea — "  You  find  Wales  very  dull,  sister.  I  sin- 
cerely hope  both  Derwent  and  Harriet  will  not  forget  their 
ijToraise  of  visiting  us  this  month." 

The  lady  slowly  took  her  seat  at  the  table,  engrossed  in 
fier  own  reflections,  when  the  man  entered  with  his  budget 
of  news ;  and  having  deposited  sundry  papers  and  letters  he 
respectfully  withdrew.  The  Earl  glanced  his  eyes  over  the 
directions  of  the  epistles,  and  turning  to  his  servants  said, 
"•  Answer  the  bell  when  called."  Three  or  four  liveried  foot- 
men deposited  their  silver  salvers  and  different  implements 
of  servitude,  and  the  peer  and  his  sister  were  left  to  them  • 
selves. 

"  Here  is  one  from  the  Duke  to  me,  and  one  for  you  from 
his  sister,"  said  the  brother  ;  "  I  propose  they  be  read  aloud 
iov  our  mutual  advantage."  To  this  proposal  the  lady,  whose 
curiosity  to  hear  the  contents  of  Derwent's  letter  greatly 
exceeded  her  interest  in  that  of  his  sister,  cheerfully  acqui- 
esced, and  her  brother  first  broke  the  seal  of  his  own  epistle, 
and  read  its  contents  as  follow : 

"Notwithstanding  my  promise  of  seeing  you  this  month 


3?  2  PREOAUTIOX. 

in  CaoiiAifc  » onshire,  I  remain  here  yet,  my  dear  Pendennyss, 
unable  to  tear  myself  from  the  attractions  I  have  found  in 
this  city,  although  the  pleasure  of  their  contemplation  has 
been  purchased  at  the  expense  of  mortified  feelings  and 
unrequited  aflfections.  It  is  a  truth  (though  possibly  diffi- 
cult to  be  believed),  that  this  mei-cenary  age  has  produced 
a  female  disengaged,  young,  and  by  no  means  very  rich, 
who  has  refused  a  jointure  of  six  thousand  a  year,  with  the 
privilege  of  walking  at  a  coronation  within  a  dozen  of  royalty 
itself." 

Here  the  accidental  falling  of  a  cup  from  the  hands  ol 
the  fair  listener  caused  some  little  interruption  to  the  reading 
of  the  brother ;  but  as  the  lady,  with  a  good  deal  of  trepida- 
tion and  many  blushes,  apologized  hastily  for  the  confusion 
her  awkwardness  had  made,  the  Earl  continued  to  read. 

"I  could  almost  worship  her  independence:  for  I  know 
the  wishes  of  both  her  parents  were  for  my  success.  I  con- 
fess to  you  freely,  that  my  vanity  has  been  a  good  deal 
hurt,  as  I  really  thought  myself  agreeable  to  her.  She 
certainly  listened  to  my  conversation,  and  admitted  my 
ap]^roaches,  with  more  satisfaction  than  those  of  any  other 
of  the  men  ai-ound  Ler ;  and  when  I  ventured  to  hint  to  her 
this  circumstance,  as  some  justification  for  my  presumption, 
she  frankly  acknowledged  the  truth  of  my  impression,  and, 
without  explaining  the  reasons  for  her  conduct,  deeply 
regretted  the  construction  I  had  been  led  to  place  uj)0!i  th 
circumstance.  Yes,  my  lord,  I  felt  it  necessary  to  apologize 
to  Emily  Moseley  for  presuming  to  aspire  to  the  honor  of 
possessing  so  much  loveliness  and  virtue.  The  accidenta 
advantages  of  rank  and  wealth  lose  all  their  importance, 
when  opposed  to  her  delicacy,  ingenuousness,  and  unaffected 
principles. 

"  1  have  heard  it  intimated  lately,  that  George  Denbigh 


PRECAUTION.  373 

«^as  in  some  way  or  other  instrumental  in  saving  her  life 
once ;  and  that  to  her  gratitude,  and  to  my  resemblance  to 
tlie  colonel,  am  I  indebted  to  a  consideration  with  Miss 
Moseley,  which,  although  it  has  been  the  means  of  buoying 
me  up  with  false  hopes,  I  can  never  regret,  from  the  plea- 
sure her  society  has  afforded  me.  I  have  remarked,  on  my 
mentioning  his  name  to  her,  that  she  showed  unusual  emo- 
tion ;  and  as  Denbigh  is  already  a  husband,  and  myself 
rejected,  the  field  is  now  fairly  open  to  you.  You  will 
enter  on  your  enterprise  with  great  advantage,  as  you  have 
the  same  flattering  resemblance,  and,  if  anything,  the  voice, 
which,  I  am  told,  is  our  greatest  recommendation  with  the 
ladies,  in  higher  perfection  than  either  George  or  your  hura« 
ble  servant." 

Here  the  reader  stopped  of  his  own  accord,  and  was  so 
mtently  absorbed  in  his  meditations,  that  the  almost  breath- 
less curiosity  of  his  sister  was  obliged  to  find  relief  by  desir- 
ing him  to  proceed.  Roused  by  the  sound  of  her  voice,  the 
earl  changed  color  sensibly,  and  continued  : 

**  But  to  be  serious  on  a  subject  of  great  importance  to 
my  future  life  (for  I  sometimes  think  her  negative  will  make 
Denbigh  a  duke),  tiie  lovely  girl  did  not  appear  happy  at 
the  time  of  our  inteiview,  nor  do  I  think  she  enjoys  at  any 
time  the  spirits  nature  has  evidently  given  her.  Harriet  is 
nearly  as  great  an  admirer  of  Miss  Moseley,  and  takes  her 
refusal  to  heart  as  much  as  myself;  she  even  attem])ted  to 
intercede  with  her  in  mv  behalf.  But  the  charrainij  oirl 
though  mild,  grateful,  and  delicate,  was  firm  and  unequi 
vocal,  and  left  no  grounds  for  the  remotest  exper'.ation  of 
Buccess  from  };eiseverance  on  my  part. 

**  As  Harriet  had  received  an  intimation  that  both  Miss 
Moseley  and  her  aunt  entertained  extremely  rigid  notions  on 
the  score  of  religion,  she  took  occasion  to  introduce  the  subr 


S74  PRECAUTION. 

ject  in  her  conference  -witli  the  former,  and  was  told  in 
reply,  '  that  other  considerations  would  have  determined  her 
to  decline  the  honor  I  intended  her;  but  that,  under  any 
circumstances,  a  more  intimate  knowledge  of  my  principles 
would  be  necessary  before  she  could  entertain  a  thought  of 
accepting  my  hand,  or,  nideed,  that  of  any  other  man.' 
Think  of  that,  Pendennyss  !  The  principles  of  a  duke  ! — 
now,  a  dukedom  and  forty  thousand  a  year  would  furnish  a 
character,  with  most  people,  for  a  Nero. 

'*  I  trust  the  important  object  I  have  had  in  view  here  is  a 
sufficient  excuse  for  my  breach  of  promise  to  you  ;  and  I 
am  serious  when  I  wish  you  (unless  the  pretty  Spaniard  has, 
as  I  sometimes  suspect,  made  you  a  captive)  to  see,  and 
endeavor  to  bring  me  in  some  degree  connected  with,  the 
charming  family  of  Sir  Edward  Moseley. 

"  The  aunt,  Mrs.  Wilson,  often  speaks  of  you  with  the 
greatest  interest,  and,  from  some  cause  or  other,  is  strongly 
enlisted  in  your  favor,  and  Miss  Moseley  hears  your  name 
mentioned  with  evident  pleasure.  You?-  religion  or  princi- 
ples cannot  be  doubted.  You  can  offer  larger  settlements, 
as  honorable  if  not  as  elevated  a  title,  a  far  more  illustrious 
name,  purchased  by  your  own  services,  and  personal  merit 
greatly  exceeding  the  pretensions  of  your  assured  friend  and 
relative,  '*  Derwent." 

Both  brother  and  sister  were  occupied  with  their  own 
reflections  for  several  minutes  after  the  letter  was  ended,  and 
the  silence  was  broken  first,  by  the  latter  saying  with  a  low 
tone  to  her  brother, — 

"  You  must  endeavor  to  become  acquainted  with  Mrs, 
Wilson ;  she  is,  I  know,  very  anxious  to  see  you,  and  your 
friendship  for  the  general  requires  it  of  you." 

"  I  owe  General  Wilson  much,"  replied  the  brother,  in  a 


PllECAUTIOX.  375 

melancholy  voice ;  "  and  when  we  go  to  Annerdale  House, 
I  wish  you  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  ladies  of  the 
Moseley  family,  should  they  be  in  town  this  winter  ; — but 
you  have  yet  the  letter  of  Harriet  to  read." 

After  first  hastily  running  over  its  contents,  the  lady  com- 
menced the  fulfilment  of  her  part  of  the  engagement. 

"  Frederick  has  been  so  much  engrossed  of  late  with  his 
own  affairs,  that  he  has  forgotten  there  is  such  a  creature  in 
existence  as  his  sister,  or,  indeed,  any  one  else  but  a  Miss 
Emily  Moseley,  and  consequently  I  have  been  unable  to 
fulfil  my  promise  of  making  you  a  visit,  for  want  of  a  proper 
escort,  and — and — perhaps  some  other  considerations,  not 
worth  mentioning  in  a  letter  I  know  you  will  read  to  the 
earl. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  cousin,  Frederick  Denbigh  has  supplicated 
the  daughter  of  a  country  baronet  to  become  a  duchess  ; 
and,  hear  it,  ye  marriage-seeking  nymphs  and  marriage- 
making  dames  !  has  supplicated  in  vain  ! 

"  I  confess  to  you,  when  the  thing  was  first  in  agitation, 
my  aristocratic  blood  roused  itself  a  little  at  the  anticipated 
connexion  ;  but  finding  on  examination  that  Sir  Edward  was 
of  no  doubtful  lineage,  and  that  the  blood  of  the  Chattertons 
runs  in  his  veins,  and  finding  the  young  lady  everything  1 
could  wish  in  a  sister,  iny  scruples  soon  disappeared,  with 
-the  follv  that  enojendered  them. 

"  There  was  no  necessity  for  any  alarm,  for  the  lady  very 
decidedly  refused  the  honor  offered  her  by  Derwent,  and 
what  makes  the  matter  worse,  refused  the  solicitations  of  hia 
sister  also. 

"  I  have  fifty  times  been  surprised  at  my  own  condescen- 
sion, and  to  this  moment  am  at  a  loss  to  know  whether  it 
was  to  the  lady's  worth,  my  brother's  happiness,  or  the  Chat- 


3TG  PRECAUTION. 

terton  blood,  that  I  finally  yielded.  Heigho  !  this  Chatterton 
is  certainly  much  too  handsome  for  a  man ;  but  I  forget  you 
have  never  seen  him."  (Here  an  arch  smile  stole  over  the 
features  of  the  listener,  as  his  sister  continued) — *'  To  return 
to  my  narration,  I  had  half  a  mind  to  send  for  a  Miss  Harris 
there  is  here,  to  learh  the  most  approved  fashion  of  a  lady 
preferring  a  suit,  but  as  fame  said  she  was  just  now  practisin<>- 
on  a  certain  hero  ycleped  Captain  Jarvis,  heir  to  Sir  Timo  of 
that  name,  it  struck  me  her  system  might  be  rather  too 
abrupt,  so  I  was  fain  to  adopt  the  best  plan — that  of  trusting 
to  natuie  and  my  own  feelings  for  woids. 

"  Nobility  is  certainly  a  very  pretty  thing  (for  those  who 

have  it),  but  I  would   defy  the  old   Margravine  of to 

keep  up  the  semblance  of  superiority  with  Emily  Moseley. 
She  is  so  very  natural,  so  very  beautiful,  and  withal  at  times 
a  little  arch,  that  one  is  afraid  to  set  up  any  other  distinc- 
tions than  such  as  can  be  fairly  supported. 

"  I  commenced  with  hoping  her  determination  to  reject  the 
hand  of  Frederick  was  not  an  unalterable  one.  (Yes,  I 
called  him  Frederick,  what  I  never  did  out  of  my  own  family 
before  in  my  life.)  There  was  a  considerable  tremor  in  the 
voice  of  Miss  Moseley,  as  she  replied,  '  I  now  perceive,  when 
too  late,  that  my  indiscretion  has  given  reason  to  my  friends 
to  think  that  I  have  entertained  intentions  towards  his  grace, 
of  which  I  entreat  you  to  beheve  me,  Lady  Harriet,  I  am 
innocent.  Indeed — indeed,  as  anything  more  than  an  agree 
able  acquaintance  I  have  never  allowed  myself  to  think  of 
your  brother  :'  and  from  my  soul  I  believe  her.  We  con 
tinued  our  conversation  for  half  an  hour  longer,  and  such  wa 
the  ingenuousness,  delicacy,  and  high  religious  feeling  dis 
played  by  the  charming  girl,  that  if  I  entered  the  room  with 
a  spark  of  regret  that  I  was  compelled  to  solicit  another  to 
favor  my  brother's  love,  I  left  it  with  a  feeling  that  my  efforts 


PRECAUTION.  377 

had  been  unsuccessful.  Yes !  thou  peerless  sister  of  the 
more  peerless  Pendennyss  !  I  once  thought  of  your  ladyship 
as  a  wife  for  Derwent — " 

A  glass  of  water  was  necessary  to  enable  the  reader  to  cleai 
her  voice,  which  grew  husky  from  speaking  so  long. 

"  But  I  now  openly  avow,  neither  your  birth,  your  hun- 
dred thousand  pounds,  nor  your  merit,  would  put  you  on  a 
footing,  in  my  estimation,  with  my  Emily.  You  may  form 
some  idea  of  her  power  to  captivate,  and  of  her  indifFerencs 
to  her  conquests,  when  I  mention  that  she  once  refused — but 
I  forget,  you  don't  know  him,  and  therefore  cannot  be  a 
judge.  The  thing  is  finally  decided,  and  we  shortly  go  into 
Westmoreland,  and  next  week,  the  Aloseleys  return  to  North- 
amptonshire. I  don't  know  when  I  shall  be  able  to  visit  you,  and 
think  I  may  now  safely  invite  you  to  Denbigh  Castle,  although 
a  month  ago  I  might  have  hesitated.  Love  to  the  earl,  and 
kind  assurance  to  yourself  of  unalterable  regard. 

"  Harriet  Denbigh." 

*'  P.  S.  I  believe  I  forgot  to  mention  that  Mrs.  Moseley,  a 
sister  of  Lord  Chatterton,  has  gone  to  Portugal,  and  that  the 
peer  himself  is  to  go  into  the  country  with  us :  there  is,  I 
suppose,  a  fellow-feehng  between  them  just  now,  though  I  do 
not  think  Chatterton  looks  so  very  miserable  as  he  might. 
Adieu." 

On  ending  this  second  epistle  the  same  silence  which  had 
succeeded  the  reading  of  the  first  prevailed,  until  the  lady 
with  an  arch  expression,  interrupted  it  by  saying, 

"  Harriet  will,  I  think,  soon  grace  the  peerage." 

•'And  happily,  I  trust,"  replied  the  brother. 

"Do  you  know  Lord  Chatterton  ?" 

"I  do ;  he  is  very  amiable,  and  admirably  calculated  to 
eontrast  with  the  lively  gaiety  of  Harriet  Denbigh." 


378  PRECAUTION. 

"  You  believe  in  loving  our  opposites,  I  see,"  rejoined  the 
lady  ;  and  then  affectionately  stretching  out  her  hand  to  him, 
she  added,  "  but,  Pendennyss,  you  must  give  me  for  a  sister 
one  as  nearly  like  yourself  as  possible." 

"  That  might  please  your  affections,"  answered  the  earl 
with  a  smile,  "  but  how  would  it  comport  with  my  tastes  ? 
Will  you  suffer  me  to  describe  the  kind  of  man  you  are  to 
select  for  your  future  lord,  unless,  indeed,  you  have  decided 
the  point  already  1" 

The  lady  colored  violently,  and  appearing  anxious  to 
change  the  subject,  she  tumbled  over  two  or  three  unopened 
letters,  as  she  cried  eagerly — 

"  Here  is  one  from  the  Donna  Julia."  The  earl  instantly 
broke  the  seal  and  read  aloud ;  no  secrets  existing  between 
them  in  relation  to  their  mutual  friend, 

"  My  Lord, 

"  I  hasten  to  wiite  you  what  I  know  it  will  give  you  plea- 
sure to  hear,  concerning  my  future  prospects  in  life.  My 
uncle,  General  M'Carthy,  has  written  me  the  cheerful  tidings, 
that  my  father  has  consented  to  receive  his  only  child,  with- 
out any  other  sacrifice  than  a  condition  of  attending  the 
service  of  the  Catholic  Church  without  any  professions  on 
my  side,  or  even  an  understanding  that  I  am  conforming  to 
its  peculiar  tenets.  This  may  be,  in  some  measure,  iiksome 
at  times,  and  possibly  distressing ;  but  the  worship  of  G()(^, 
with  a  proper  humiliation  of  spiiit,  I  have  learnt  to  considn* 
as -a  privilege  to  us  here,  and  I  owe  a  duty  to  my  earthly 
father  of  penitence  and  care  in  his  later  years  that  will  jus- 
tify the  measuie  in  the  eyes  of  my  heavenly  One.  I  ha>ve, 
therefore,  acquainted  my  uncle  in  reply,  that  I  am  willing  to 
attend  the  Conde's  summons  at  any  moment  he  will  choose 
to  make  them ;  and  I  thought  it  a  debt  due  your  care  and 


PRECAUTION.  379 

friendship  to  apprise  your  lordship  of  my  approaching  depar 
ture  from  this  country ;  indeed,  I  have  great  reasons  for 
believing  that  your  kind  and  unremitted  efforts  to  attain  this 
object  have  already  prepared  you  to  expect  this  result. 

"  I  feel  it  will  be  impossible  to  quit  England  without  seeing 
you  and  your  sister,  to  thank  you  for  the  many,  very  many 
favors,  of  both  a  temporal  and  eternal  nature,  you  have  been 
the  ascents  of  conferrinor  on  me.  The  cruel  sua^ffestions  which 
I  dreaded,  and  which  it  appears  had  reached  the  ears  of  my 
friends  in  Spain,  have  prevented  my  troubling  your  lordship 
of  late  unnecessarily  with  my  concerns.  The  consideration 
of  a  friend  to  your  character  (Mrs.  Wilson)  has  removed  the 
necessity  of  applying  for  your  advice  ;  she  and  her  charming 
niece,  Miss  Emily  Moseley,  have  been,  next  to  yourselves,  the 
greatest  solace  I  have  had  in  my  exile,  and  united  you  will  be 
remembered  in  my  prayei's.  I  will  merely  mention  here, 
deferring  the  explanation  until  I  see  you  in  London,  that  I 
have  been  visited  by  the  wretch  from  whom  you  delivered 
me  in  Portuo-al,  and  that  the  means  of  ascertaininof  his  name 
have  fallen  into  my  hands.  You  will  be  the  best  judge  of 
the  proper  steps  to  be  taken ;  but  I  wish,  by  all  means, 
something  may  be  done  to  prevent  his  attempting  to  see  me 
in  Spain.  Should  it  be  discovered  to  my  relations  there  that 
he  hap  any  such  intentions,  it  would  certainly  terminate  in  his 
death,  and  possibly  in  my  disgrace.  Wishing  you  and  your 
kind  sister  all  possible  happiness,  I  remain, 

"  Your  Lordship's  obliged  friend, 

"  Julia  Fitzgerald." 

"  Oh !"  cried  the  sister  as  she  concluded  the  letter,  "  we  must 
certainly  see  her  before  she  goes.  What  a  wretch  that  per- 
secutor of  hers  must  be  !  how  persevering  in  his  villany  !" 

**  He  does  exceed  ray  ideas  of  effrontery,"  said  the  earl,  in 


380  PRECAUTION. 

great  warmth — "  but  he  may  offend  too  far ;  the  laws  shall 
interpose  their  power  to  defeat  his  schemes,  should  he  ever 
repeat  them." 

"  He  attempted  to  take  your  life,  brother,"  said  the  lady 
shuddering,  *'  if  I  remember  the  tale  aright." 

"  Why,  I  have  endeavored  to  free  him  from  that  imputa 
tion,"  rejoined  the  brother,  musing  ;  "he  certainly  fired 
pistol,  but  the  latter  hit  my  horse  at  such  a  distance  from 
myself,  that  I  believe  his  object  was  to  disable  me  and  not 
murder.  His  escape  has  astonished  me  ;  he  must  have  fled 
by  himself  into  the  woods,  as  Harmer  was  but  a  short 
distance  behind  me,  admirably  mounted,  and  the  escort  was 
up  and  in  full  pursuit  within  ten  minutes.  After  all  it  may 
be  for  the  best  he  was  not  taken ;  for  I  am  persuaded  the 
dragoons  would  have  sabred  him  on  the  spot,  and  he  may 
have  parents  of  respectability,  or  a  wife  to  kill  by  the  know- 
ledge of  his  misconduct." 

"  This  Emily  Moseley  must  be  a  faultless  being,"  cried  the 
sister,  as  she  ran  over  the  contents  of  Juha's  letter.  "  Three 
different  letters,  and  each  containing  her  praises  !" 

The  earl  made  no  reply,  but  opening  the  duke's  letter 
again,  he  appeared  to  be  studying  its  contents.  His  color 
slightly  changed  as  he  dwelt  on  its  passages,  and  turning  to 
his  sister  he  inquired  if  she  had  a  mind  to  try  the  air  of  West- 
moreland for  a  couple  of  weeks  or  a  month. 

"  As  you  say,  my  Lord,"  replied  the  lady,  with  cheeks  of 
carlet. 

"  Then  I  say  we  will  go.  I  wish  much  to  see  Derwent 
and  I  think  there  will  be  a  wedding  during  our  visit." 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  the  almost  untasted  breakfast  wa 
removed  in  a  few  minutes.  A  servant  announced  that  his 
horse  was  in  readiness.  The  earl  wished  his  sister  a  friendly 
good  morning,  and  proceeded  to  the  door,  where  "was  stand 


PRECAUTION.  381 

ing  one  of  the  noble  black  horses  before  mentioned,  held  by 
a  groom,  and  the  military-looking  attendant  ready  mounted 
on  another. 

Throwing  himself  into  the  saddle,  th'e  young  peer  rode 
gracefully  from  the  door,  followed  by  his  attendant  horseman. 
Durinof  this  ride,  the  master  suffered  his  steed  to  take  what- 
ever  course  most  pleased  himself,  and  his  follower  looked  up 
in  surprise  more  than  once,  to  see  the  careless  manner  in 
which  the  Earl  of  Pendennyss,  confessedly  one  of  the  best 
horsemen  in  England,  managed  the  noble  animal.  Raving, 
however,  got  without  the  gates  of  his  own  park,  and  into  the 
vicinity  of  numberless  cottages  and  farm-houses,  the  mas- 
ter recovered  his  recollection,  and  the  man  ceased  to  wonder. 

For  three  hours  the  equestrians,  pursued  their  course 
through  the  beautiful  vale  which  opened  gracefully  opposite 
one  of  the  fronts  of  the  castle ;  and  if  faces  of  smiling  wel- 
come, inquiries  after  his  own  and  his  sister's  welfare,  which 
evidently  sprang  from  the  heart,  or  the  most  familiar  but 
respectful  representations  of  their  own  prosperity  or  misfor- 
tunes, gave  any  testimony  of  the  feelings  entertained  by  the 
tenantry  of  this  noble  estate  for  their  landlord,  the  situa- 
tion of  the  young  nobleman  might  be  justly  considered 
envied. 

As  the  hour  for  dinner  approached,  they  turned  the  heads 
of  their  horses  towards  home ;  and  on  entering  the  park, 
removed  from  the  scene  of  industry  and  activity  without,  the 
earl  relapsed  into  his  fit  of  musing.  A  short  distance  from 
the  house  he  suddenly  called,  "  Harmer."  The  man  drove 
his  spurs  into  the  loins  of  his  horse,  and  in  an  instant  was  by 
the  side  of  his  master,  which  he  signified  by  raising  his  hand 
to  his  cap  with  the  palm  opening  outward. 

"You  must  prepare  to  go  to  Spain  when  required,  in 
attendance  on  Mrs.  Fitzgerald." 


382  PRECAUTION. 

The  man  received  his  order  with  the  indifference  of  oue 
used  to  adventures  and  movements,  and  having  laconically 
signified  his  assent,  he  drew  his  horse  back  again  into  bis 
station  in  the  rear; 


PRECAUTION.  383 


CHAPTER  XXXYIII. 

The  day  succeeding  the  arrival  of  he  Moseleys  at  the  seat 
i,i  their  ancestors,  Mrs.  Wilson  observed  Emily  silently  put- 
ting on  her  pelisse,  and  walking  out  unattended  by  either  of 
the  domestics  or  any  of  the  family.  There  was  a  peculiar 
melancholy  in  her  air  and  manner,  which  inclined  the  cau- 
tious aunt  to  suspect  that  her  charge  was  bent  on  the  indul- 
gence of  some  ill-judged  weakness  ;  more  particularly,  as  the 
direction  she  took  led  to  the  arbor,  a  theatre  in  which  Den- 
bigh had  been  so  conspicuous  an  actor.  Hastily  throwing 
a  cloak  over  her  own  shoulders,  Mrs.  "Wilson  followed  Emily 
with  the  double  purpose  of  ascertaining  her  views,  and  if 
necessary,  of  inteiposing  her  own  authority  against  the  repe- 
tition of  similar  excursions. 

As  Emily  a|)proached  the  arbor,  whither  in  truth  she  had 
directed  her  steps,  its  faded  vegetation  and  chilhng  aspect, 
so  different  from  its  verdure  and  luxuriance  when  she  last 
saw  it,  came  over  her  heart  as  a  symbol  of  her  own  blighted 
prospects  and  deadened  affections.  The  recollection  of  Den- 
bigh's conduct  on  that  spot,  of  his  general  benevolence  and 
assiduity  to  please,  being  forc'bly  recalled  to  her  mind  at  the 
iisUmt,  forgetful  of  her  object  in  visiting  the  arbor,  Emily 
yielded  to  her  sensibilities,  and  sank  on  the  seat  weeping  as 
if  her  heart  would  break. 

She  had  not  time  to  dry  her  eyes,  and  to  collect  her 
scattered  thoughts,  before  Mrs.  Wilson  entered  the  arbor. 
Eyeing  her  niece  for  a  moment  with  a  sternness  unusual  for 
the  one  to  adopt  or  the  other  to  receive,  she  said. 


384  PRECAUTION. 

**  It  is  a  solemn  obligation  we  owe  our  religion  and  our- 
selves, to  endeavor  to  suppress  such  passions  as  are  incom- 
patible with  our  duties  ;  and  there  is  no  weakness  greater 
than  blindly  adhering  to  the  wrong,  when  we  are  convinced 
of  our  error.  It  is  as  fatal  to  good  morals  as  it  is  unjust  to 
ourselves  to  persevere,  from  selfish  motives,  in  believing 
those  innocent  whom  evidence  has  convicted  as  guilty 
Many  a  weak  woman  has  sealed  her  own  misery  by  such 
wilful  obstinacy,  aided  by  the  unpardonable  vanity  of  believ- 
ing herself  able  to  control  a  man  that  the  laws  of  God  could 
not  restrain." 

"  Oh,  dear  madam,  speak  not  so  unkindly  to  me,"  sobbed 
the  weeping  giil ;  "  I — I  am  guilty  of  no  such  weakness,  I 
assure  you  :'*  and  looking  up  with  an  air  of  profound  resig- 
nation and  piety,  she  continued :  "  Here,  on  this  spot,  where 
he  saved  my  Hfe,  I  was  about  to  offer  up  my  prayers  for 
his  conviction  of  the  error  of  his  ways,  and  for  the  pardon 
of  his  too — too  heavy  transgressions." 

Mrs.  Wilson,  softened  almost  to  tears  herself,  viewed  her 
for  a  moment  with  a  mixture  of  delight,  and  continued  in  a 
milder  tone, — 

"  I  believe  you,  my  dear.  I  am  certain,  although  you 
may  have  loved  Denbigh  much,  that  you  love  your  Maker 
and  his  ordinances  more  ;  and  I  have  no  apprehensions  that, 
were  he  a  disengaged  man,  and  you  alone  in  the  world  — 
unsupported  by  anything  but  your  sense  of  duty — you 
would  ever  so  far  forget  yourself  as  to  become  his  wife 
But  does  not  your  religion,  does  not  your  own  usefulness  in 
society,  require  you  wholly  to  free  your  heart  from  the 
power  of  a  man  who  has  so  unworthily  usurped  a  dominion 
over  it  ?" 

To  this  Emily  replied,  in  a  hardly  audible  voice,  "  Certainly 
—and  I  pray  constantly  for  it." 


PRECAUTION.  385 

**  It  is  well,  ray  love,"  said  the  aunt,  soothingly ;  "  you 
cannot  fail  with  such  means,  and  your  own  exertions,  finally 
to  prevail  over  your  own  worst  enemies,  your  passions.  The 
task  our  sex  has  to  sustain  is,  at  the  best,  an  arduous  one ; 
but  so  much  the  greater  is  our  credit  if  we  do  it  well." 

"  Oh  !  how  is  anunguided  girl  ever  to  judge  aright,  if, — " 
cried  Emily,  clasping  her  hands  and  speaking  with  great 
energy,  and  she  would  'have  said,  "  one  like  Denbigh  in 
appearance,  be  so  vile !"     Shame,  however,  kept  her  silent. 

"  Fevf  men  can  support  such  a  veil  of  hypocrisy  as  that 
with  which-  I  sometimes  think  Denbigh  must  deceive  even 
himself.  His  case  is  an  extraordinary  exception  to  a  very 
sacred  rule — *  that  the  tree  is  known  by  its  fruits,' "  replied 
her  aunt.  "  There  is  no  safer  way  of  judging  of  character 
that  one's  oppoi-tunitics  will  not  admit  of  more  closely 
investigating,  than  by  examining  into  and  duly  appreciating 
early  impressions.  The  man  or  woman  who  has  constantly 
seen  the  practice  of  piety  before  them,  from  infancy  to  the 
noon  of  hfe,  will  seldom  so  far .  abandon  the  recollection  of 
virtue  as  to  be  guilty  of  great  enormities.  Even  Divine 
Truth  has  promised  that  his  blessings  or  his  curses  shall 
extend  to  many  generations.  It  ^s  true,  that  with  our  most 
most  guarded  prudence  we  may  be  deceived."  Mrs.  Wil- 
son paused  and  sighed  heavily,  as  her  own  case,  connected 
with  the  loves  of  Denbigh  and  her  niece,  occurred  strongly 
to  her  mind.  "  Yet,"  she  continued,  "  we  may  lessen  the 
danger  much  by  guarding  against  it ;  and  it  seems  to  me 
no  more  than  what  self-preservation  requires  in  a  young 
woman.  But  for  a  religious  parent  to  neglect  it,  is  a  wilful 
abandonment  of  a  most  solemn  duty." 

As  Mrs.  Wilson  concluded,  her  niece,  who  had  recovered 
the  command  of  her  feelings,  pressed  her  hand  in  silence  to 
her  lips,  and  showed  a  disposition  to  retire  from  a  spot 
17 


PRECAUTION. 

which  she  found  recalled  too  many  recollections  of  a  mafl 
whose  image  it  was  her  imperious  duty  to  banish,  on  every 
consideration  of  propriety  and  religion. 

Their  walk  into  the  house  was  silent,  and  their  thoughts 
were  drawn  from  the  unpleasant  topic  by  finding  a  letter 
from  Julia,  announcing  her  intended  departure  from  this 
country,  and  her  wish  to  take  leave  of  them  in  London 
before  she  sailed.  As  she  had  mentioned  the  probable  day 
for  that  event,  both  the  ladies  were  delighted  to  find  it  was 
posterior  to  the  time  fixed  by  Sir  Edward  for  their  own 
visit  to  the  capital. 

Had  Jane,  instead  of  Emily,  been  the  one  that  suffered 
through  the  agency  of  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  however  innocently 
on  the  part  of  the  lady,  her  violent  and  uncontrolled  passions 
would  have  either  blindly  united  the  innocent  with  the  guilty 
in  her  resentments;  or,  if  a  sense  of  justice  had  vindicated 
the  lady  in  her  judgment,  yet  her  pride  and  ill-guided 
delicacy  would  have  felt  her  name  a  reproach,  that  would 
have  forbidden  any  intercourse  with  her  or  any  belonging  to 
her. 

Not  so  with  her  sister.  The  suiBFerings  of  Mrs.  Fitzgerald 
had  taken  a  strong  hold  on  her  youthful  feelings,  and  a  simi- 
larity of  opinions  and  practices  on  the  great  object  of  their 
lives,  had  brouoht  them  tos^ether  in  a  manner  no  misconduct 
in  a  third  person  could  weaken.  It  is  true,  the  recollection 
of  Denbigh  was  intimately  blended  with  the  fate  of  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald.  But  Emily  sought  support  against  her  feelings 
from  a  quarter  that  rather  required  an  investigation  of  them 
than  a  desire  to  drown  care  with  thought. 

She  never  indulged  in  romantic  -reflections  in  which  the 
image  of  Denbigh  was  associated.  This  she  had  hardly 
done  in  her  happiest  moments  ;.  and  his  marriage,  if  nothing 
else  had  interfered,  now  absolutely  put  it  out  of  the  question. 


PRECAUTION.  387 

But,  although  a  Christian,  and  an  humble  and  devout  one, 
Emily  Moseley  was  a  woman,  and  had  loved  ardently,  con- 
fidingly, and  gratefully-  Marriage  is  the  business  of  life 
with  her  sex, — with  all,  next  to  a  preparation  for  a  better 
world, — and  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  a  first  passion  in  a 
bosom  like  that  of  our  heroine  was  to  be  suddenly  erased 
and  to  leave  no  vestiges  of  its  existence. 

Her  partiality  for  the  society  of  Derwent,  her  meditations 
in  which  she  sometimes  detected  herself  drawing  a  picture 
of  what  Denbigh  might  have  been,  if  early  care  had  been 
taken  to  impress  him  with  his  situation  in  this  world,  and 
from  which  she  generally  retired  to  her  closet  and  her  knees, 
were  the  remains  of  feelings  too  strong  and  too  pure  to  be 
torn  from  her  in  a  moment. 

The  arrival  of  John,  with  Grace  and  Jane,  enlivened  not 
only  the  family  but  the  neighborhood.  Mr.  Haughton  and 
his  numerous  friends  poured  in  on  the  young  couple  with  their 
"congratulations,  and  a  few  weeks  stole  by  insensibly,  previa 
ously  to  the  commencement  of  the  journeys  of  Sir  Edward 
and  his  son — the  one  to  Benfield  Lodge  and  the  other  to  St. 
James's  Square. 

On  the  return  of  the  travellers,  a  few  days  before  they 
commenced  their  journey  to  the  capital,  John  laughingly  told 
his  uncle  that,  although  he  himself  greatly  admired  the  taste 
of  Mr.  Peter  Johnson  in  dress,  yet  he  doubted  whether  th*» 
present  style  of  fashions  in  the  metropolis  would  not  be  scan 
dalized  by  the  appearance  of  the  honest  steward. 

John  had  in  fact  noticed,  in  their  former  visit  to  London, 
mob  of  mischievous  boys  eyeing  Peter  with  indications  of 
rebellious  movements  which  threatened  the  old  man,  and 
from  which  he  had  retreated  by  taking  a  coach,  and  he  now 
made  the  suggestion  from  pure  good-nature,  to  save  him  any 
future  trouble  from  a  similar  cause. 


388  PRECAUTION. 

They  were  at  dinner  when  Moseley  made  the  remark,  and 
the  steward  was  in  his  place  at  the  sideboard — for  his  master 
was  his  home.  Drawing  near  at  the  mention  of  his  name 
first,  and  casting  an  eye  over  his  figure  to  see  if  all  was 
decent,  Peter  respectfully  broke  silence,  determined  to  defend 
his  own  cause. 

"  Why  !  Mr.  John — Mr.  John  Moseley  ?  if  I  might  judge, 
for  an  elderly  man,  and  a  serving  man,"  said  the  steward, 
bowing  humbly,  "  I  am  no  disparagement  to  my  friends,  or 
even  to  my  honored  master." 

Johnson's  vindication  of  his  wardrobe  drew  the  eyes  of  the 
family  upon  him,  and  an  involuntary  smile  passed  from  one 
to  the  other,  as  they  admired  his  starched  figure  and  drab 
frock,  or  rather  doublet  with  sleeves  and  skirts.  Sir  Edward, 
being  of  the  same  opinion  with  his  son,  observed — 

"  I  do  think.  Uncle  Benfield,  there  might  be  an  improve- 
ment in  the  dress  of  your  steward  without  much  trouble  to 
the  ingenuity  of  his  tailor." 

"  Sir  Edward  Moseley — honorable  sir,"  said  the  steward, 
beginning  to  grow  alarmed,  "  if  I  may  be  so  bold,  you  young 
gentlemen  may  like  gay  clothes ;  but  as  for  me  and  his 
honor,  we  are  used  to  such  as  we  wear,  and  what  we  are 
used  to  we  love." 

The  old  man  spoke  with  earnestness,  and  drew  the  parti- 
cular attention  of  his  master  to  a  review  of  his  attire.  After 
reflecting  that  no  gentleman  in  the  house  had  been  attended 
by  any  servitor  in  such  a  garb,  Mr.  Benfield  thought  it  time 
to  give  his  sentiments  on  the  subject. 

"  Why  I  remember  that  my  Lord  Gosford's  gentleman 
never  wore  a  liver}^  nor  can  I  say  that  he  dressed  exactly 
after  the  manner  of  Johnson.  Every  member  had  his  body 
servant,  and  they  were  not  unfrequently  taken  for  their  mas- 
ters.    Lady  Juliana,  too,  after  the  death  of  her  nephew,  had 


PRECAUTION.  3^9 

one  or  two  attendants  out  of  livery,  and  in  a  different  fashion 
from  your  attire.  Peter,  I  think  ^Yith  John  Moseley  there, 
we  must  alter  you  a  little  for  the  sake  of  appearances." 

"Your  honor!"  stammered  out  Peter,  in  increased  terror; 
"for  Mr.  John  Moseley  and  Sir  Edward,  and  youngerly  gen- 
tlemen like,  dress  may  do.  Now,  your  honor,  if — "  and 
Peter,  turning  to  Grace,  bowed  nearly  to  the  floor — "  I  had 
such  a  sweet,  most  beautiful  young  lady  to  smile  on  me,[ 
might  wish  to  change  ;  but,  sir,  my  day^  has  gone  by." 
Peter  sighed  as  the  recollection  of  Patty  Steele  and  his  youth- 
ful love  floated  across  his  brain.  Grace  blushed  and  thanked 
him  for  the  compliment,  and  gave  her  opinion  that  his  gal- 
lantry merited  a  better  costume. 

*'  Peter,"  said  his  master,  decidedly,  "  I  think  Mrs.  Moseley 
is  right.  If  I  should  call  on  the  viscountess  (the  Lady  Juli- 
ana, who  yet  survived  an  ancient  dowager  of  seventy),  I  shall 
wa  t  your  attendance,  and  in  your  present  garb  you  cannofe 
fail  to  shock  her  delicate  feelings.  You  remind  me  now  1 
tiiiiik,  every  time  I  look  at  you,  of  old  Harry,  the  earl's 
gamekeeper,  one  of  the  most  cruel  men  T  ever  knew." 

This  decided  the  matter.  Peter  well  knew  that  his  mas- 
ter's antipathy  to  old  Harry  arose  from  his  having  pursued  a 
poacher  one  day,  in  place  of  helping  the  Lady  Juliaiia  over 
a  stile,  in  her  flight  from  a  bull  that  was  playing  his  gambols 
in  the  same  field ;  and  not  for  the  world  w^ould  the  faithful 
steward  retain  even  a  feature,  if  it  brought  unpleasant  recol- 
ections  to  his  kind  master.  He  at  one  time  thought  of 
clo«inor  his  innovations  on  his  waidrobe,  however,  with  a 
cnai^ge  c:  iii?  nether  garrrjent ;  as  after  a  great  deal  of  study 
he  cou^d  only  siake  oui  ine  reser^blaiice  between  himself 
and  the  ounoxious  game-keeper  \o  :oi  sisi  :n  tne  leathern 
breeches.  But  fearful  of'sorae  poincs  escipinor  his  men2':^rv  :d 
forty  years,  ae  tameiy  acquiesced  in  all  John's  alteratiouSj 


390  PRECAUTION. 

and  appeared  at  his  station  three  days  afterwards  newly 
decked  from  head  to  foot  in  a  more  modern  suit  of  snuff- 
color. 

The  change  once  made,  Peter  greatly  admired  himself  in  a 
glass,  and  thought,  could  he  have  had  the  taste  of  Mr.  John 
Moseley  in  his  youth  to  direct  his  toilet,  that  the  hard  heart 
of  Patty  Steele  would  not  always  have  continued  so  obdu- 
rate. 

Sir  Edward  wished  to  collect  his  neighbors  round  him 
once  more  before  he  left  them  for  another  four  months ;  and 
accordingly  the  rector  and  his  wife,  Francis  and  Clara,  the 
Ilaughtons,  with  a  few  others,  dined  at  the  Hall  by  invita- 
tion, the  last  day  of  their  stay  in  Northamptonshire.  The 
company  had  left  the  table  to  join  the  ladies,  when  Grace 
came  into  the  drawing-room  with  a  face  covered  with  smiles 
and  beaming  with  pleasure. 

"You  look  like'th^  bearer  of  good  news,  Mrs.  Moseley," 
cried  the  rector,  catching  a  glimpse  of  her  countenance  as  she 
passed. 

"  Good  !  I  sincerely  hope  and  believe,"  replied  Grace. 
'*  My  letters  from  my  brother  announce  that  his  maniage  took 
place  last  week,  and  give  us  hopes  of  seeing  them  all  in 
town  within  the  month." 

"  Married !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Haughton,  casting  his  eyes 
unconsciously  on  Emily,  "  my  Lord  Chatterton  married  1 
May  I  ask  the  name  of  the  bride,  my  dear  Mrs.  Moseley  ?" 

*'  To  Lady  Harriet  Denbigh — and  at  Denbigh  Castle  in 

Westmoreland  ;  but  very  privately,  as  you  may  suppose  from 

eeing    Moseley  and    myself   here,"    answered    Grace,    her 

heeks  yet  glowing  with  surprise  and  pleasure  at  the  intel- 

igence. 

"  Lady  Harriet  Denbigh  ?"  echoed  Mr.  Haughton ;  '*  what! 
a  kinswoman  of  our  old  friend  ?  your  friend,  Miss-  Emily  ?** 


PRECAUTION,  2[)l 

Jtifs  recollection  of  the  service  lie  had  performed  at  the  arbor 
still  fresh  in  his  memor}'. 

Emily  commanded  herself  sufficiently  to  reply,  "  Brothers' 
hildren,  I  believe,  sir." 

"  But  a  lad)/ — how  came  she  my  lady  ?"  continued  the 
good  man,  anxious  to  know  the  whole,  and  ignorant  of  any 
reasons  for  delicacy  where  so  great  a  favorite  as  Denbigh  was 
in  the  question. 

"  She  is  the  daughter  of  the  late  Duke  of  Derwent,"  said 
Mrs.  Moseley,  as  willing  as  himself  to  talk  of  her  new  sister. 

"  How  happens  it  that  the  death  of  old  Mr.  Denbigh  was 
announced  as  plain  Geo.  Denbigh,  Esq.,  if  he  was  the  bro- 
ther of  a  duke  V"  said  Jane,  forgetting  for  a  moment  the  .pre- 
sence of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Ives,  in  her  surviving  passion  for  gene- 
alogy :  "should  he  not  have  been  called  Lord  George,  or 
honorable  ?" 

This  was  the  fiist  time  any  allusion  had  been  made  to  the 
sudden  death  in  the  church  by  any  of  the  Moseleys  in  the 
hearing  of  the  rector's  family  ;  and  the  speaker  sat  in  breath- 
less terror  at  her  own  inadvertency.  But  Dr.  Ives,  observing 
that  a  profound  silence  prevailed  as  soon  as  Jane  ended, 
answered  mildly,  though  in  a  way  to  prevent  any  further 
comments — 

"  The  late  Duke's  succeeding  a  cousin-german  in  the  title, 
was  the  reason,  I  presume.  Emily,  I  am  to  hear  from  you 
by  letter  I  hope,  after  you  enter  into  the  gaieties  of  the  me- 
tropolis ?" 

This  Emily  cheerfully  promised,  and  the  conversation  took 
another  turn. 

Mrs.  Wilson  had  carefully  avoided  all  communications  with 
the  rector  concerning  his  youthful  friend,  and  the  Doctor 
appeared  unwilling  to  commence  anything  which  might  lead 
U)  bis  name  being  meutioued,     "  He  is  disappointed  in  him  aa 


392  PRECAUTION. 

well  as  ourselves,"  thought  the  widow,  "  and  it  must  be  anplea 
Bant  to  have  his  image  recalled.  He  saw  his  attentions  to 
Emily,  and  he  knows  of  his  marriage  to  Lady  Laura  of 
course,  and  he  loves  us  all,  and  Emily  in  particular,  too  wel 
not  to  feel  hurt  by  his  conduct." 

"  Sir  Edward  !"  cried  Mr.  Haughton,  with  a  laugh,  "  Baro 
nets  are  likely  to  be  plenty.     Have  you  heard  how  near  w 
were  to  have  another  in  the  neighborhood  lately  ?"    Sir  Ed- 
ward  answered   in    the  negative,    and    his    neighbor   con- 
tinued—  "^ 

"  Why  no  less  a  man  than  Captain  Jarvis,  promoted  to  the 
bloody  hand." 

"  Captain  Jarvis  !''  exclaimed  five  or  six  at  once;  "explain 
yourself,  Mr.  Haughton.*' 

"  My  near  neighbor,  young  Walker,  has  been  to  Bath  on 
an  unusual  business — his  health — and  for  the  benefit  of  the 
country  he  has  brought  back  a  pretty  piece  of  scandal.  It 
seems  that  Lady  Jarvis,  as  I  am  told  she  is  since  she  left 
here,  wished  to  have  her  hopeful  heir  made  a  lord,  and  that 
the  two  united  for  some  six  months  in  forming  a  kind  of 
savings'  bank  between  themselves,  to  enable  them  at  some 
future  day  to  bribe  the  minister  to  honor  the  peerage  with 
such  a  prodigy.  After  awhile  the  daughter  of  our  late  ac- 
quaintance. Sir  William  Harris,  became  an  accessary  to  the 
plot,  and  a  contributor  too,  to  the  tune  of  a  couple  of  hundred 
pounds.  Some  circumstances,  however,  at  length  made  this 
litter  lady  suspicious,  and  she  wished  to  audit  the  books. 
The  Captain  prevaricated — the  lady  remonstrated,  until  the 
gentleman,  with  more  truth  than  manners,  told  her  that  she 
was  a  fool — the  money  he  had  expended  or  lost  at  dice  ;  and 
that  he  did  not  think  the  ministers  quite  so  silly  as  to  make 
him  a  lord,  or  that  he  himself  was  such  a  fool  as  to  make  hei 
his  wife ;  so  the  whole  thing  exploded.'* 


PRECAUTION.  393 

John  listened  with  a  delight  but  little  short  of  what  he  had 
felt  when  Grace  owned  her  love,  and  anxious  to  know  all, 
eagerly  inquired — 

"  But,  is  it  true  ?  how  was  it  found  out  ?" 

**  Oh,  the  lady  complained  of  part,  and  the  Captain  tells 
all  to  get  the  laugh  on  his  side ;  so  that  Walker  says  the 
former  is  the  derision  and  the  latter  the  contempt  of  all 
Bath." 

"  Poor  Sir  William,"  said  the  baronet,  with  feehng ;  "  he 
is  much  to  be  pitied." 

'*  I  am  afraid  he  has  nothing  to  blame  but  his  own  indul- 
gence," remarked  the  rector. 

"  You  don't  know  the  worst  of  it,"  replied  Mr.  Haughton. 
"  We  poor  people  are  made  to  suffer — Lady  Jarvis  wept  and 
fretted  Sir  Timo  out  of  his  lease,  which  has  been  given  up, 
and  a  new  house  is  to  be  taken  in  another  part  of  the 
kingdom,  where  neither  Miss  Harris  nor  the  story  is 
known." 

"  Then  Sir  William  has  to  4)rocure  a  new  tenant,"  said 
Lady  Moseley,  not  in  the  least  regretting  the  loss  of  the 
old  one. 

"  No  !  my  lady  !"  continued  Mr,  Haughton,  with  a  smile. 
"  Walker  is,  you  know,  an  attorney,  and  does  some  business 
occasionally  for  Sir  William.  When  Jarvis 'gave  up  the 
lease,  the  baronet,  who  finds  himself  a  little  short  of  money, 
offered  the  deanery  for  sale,  it  being  a  useless  place  to  him ; 
and  the  very  next  day,  while  Walker  was  with  Sir  William, 
a  gentleman  called,  and  without  higgling  agreed  to  pay  down 
at  once  his  thirty  thousand  pounds  for  it." 

"  And  ^ho  is  the  purchaser  V  inquired  Lady  Moseley, 
eagerly. 

"  The  Earl  of  Pendennyss." 

"  Lord  Pendennyss  !"  exclaimed  Mi-s.  Wilson  in  rapture. 
17* 


39:4  PRECAUTION-. 

"  Pendennyss  !"  cried  the  rector,  eyeing  the  aunt  and 
Emily  with  a  smile. 

"  Pendennyss !"  echoed  all  in  the  room  in  amazement. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Haughton,  "  it  is  now  the  property  of  tl.t 
arl,  who  says  he  has  bought  it  for  his  sister.*' 


PRECAUTION.  395 


CI^APTER  XXXIX. 

Mru.  WiLso>i  found  time  the  ensuing  day  to  ascertain 
^  Sefore  they  Vit  the  hall,  the  truth  of  the  tale  related  by  Mr. 
Kaughtop  The  deanery  had  certainly  changed  its  master, 
And  a  PoW  steward  had  a^/'eady  arrived  to  take  possession  in 
che  Tame  of  his  lord.  What  induced  Pendennyss  to  make 
thii  purchase  she  was  at  a  loss  to  "conceive — most  probably 
some  arrangement  between  himself  and  Lord  ]3olton.  But 
whatever  might  be  his  motive,  it  in  some  measure  insured  his 
becoming  for  a  season  their  neighbor  ;  and  Mrs.  Wilson  felt 
a  degree  of  pleasure  at  the  circumstance  that  she  had  been  a 
stranger  to  for  a  long  time — a  pleasure  which  was  greatly 
heightened  as  she  dwelt  on  the  lovely  face  of  the  companion 
who  occupied  the  other  seat  in  her  travelling  chaise. 

The  road  to  London  led  by  the  gates  of  the  deanery,  and 
near  them  they  passed  a  servant  in  the  livery  of  those  they 
had  once  seen  following  the  equipage  of  the  earl.  Anxious  to 
know  anything  which  might  hasten  her  acquaintance  with 
this  admired  nobleman,  Mrs.  Wilson  stopped  her  carriage  to 
inquire. 

"  Pray,  sir,  whom  do  you  serve  ?" 

"  My  Lord  Pendennyss,  ma'am,"  replied  the  man,  respecV 
fuUy  taking  off  his  hat. 

"The  earl  is  not  here?"  asked  Mrs.  Wilsor,  A^ith  inte- 
rest. 

'*  Oh,  no,  madam  ;  I  am  here  in  waiU^tg  on  his  steward. 
My  lord  is  in  Westmoreland,  with  his  grace  and  Colonel 
Denbigh,  and  the  ladies."  • 


396  PUECAUTIOX. 

*'  Does  lie  remain  there  long  ?"  continued  the  anxious 
W^idow,  desirous  of  knowing  all  she  could  learn. 

*'  I  believe  not,  madam ;  most  of  our  people  have  gone  to 
Annerdale- House,  and  my  lord  is  expected  in  town  with  the 
duke  and  the  colonel." 

As  the    servant  was   an   elderly   man,   and   appeared   to 
understand  the  movements  of  his  master  so  well,  Mrs.  Wil 
son  was  put  in  unusual  spirits  by  this  prospect  of  a  speedy 
termination  to  her  anxiety  to  meet  Pendennyss. 

'*  Annerdale-House  is  the  earl's^town  residence  1"  quietly 
inquired  Emily. 

"  Yes ;  he  got  the  fortune  of  the  last  duke  of  that  title, 
but  how  I  do  not  exactly  know.  I  believe,  however,  through 
his  mother.  General  Wilson  did  not  know  his  family*: 
indeed,  Pendennyss  bore  a  second  title  during  his  lifetime  ; 
but  did  you  observe  how  very  civil  his  servant  was,  as  well 
as  the  one  John  spoke  to  before, — a  sure  sign  their  master 
is  a  gentleman  ?" 

Emily  smiled  at  the  strong  partialities  of  her  aunt,  and 
replied,  "  Your  handsome  chaise  and  attendants  will  draw 
respect  from  most  men  in  his  situation,  dear  aunt,  be  theii 
masters  who  they  mny." 

The  expected  pleasure  of  meeting  the  earl  was  a  topic 
frequently  touched  upon  between  her  aunt  and  Emily  during 
their  journey ;  the  former  beginning  to  entertain  hopes  she 
would  have  laughed  at  herself  for,  could  they  have  been 
fairly  laid  before  her  ;  and  the  latter  entertaining  a  profound 
respect  for  his  character,  but  chiefly  governed  by  a  wish  to 
gratify  her  companion. 

The  third  day  they  reached  the  baronet's  handsome  house 
in  St.  James's  Square,  and  foitnd  that  the  forethought  of 
John  had  provided  everything  in  the  best  and  most  comfort 
able*manuer. 


PRECAUTION.  397 

It  was  the  first  visit  of  both  Jane  and  Emily  to  the  metro- 
polis ;  and  under  the  protection  of  tlieir  almost  equally 
curious  mother,  and  escorted  by  John,  they  wisely  deter- 
mined  to  visit  the  curiosities,  while  their  leisure  yet  admitted 
of  the  opportunity.  For  the  first  two  weeks  their  time  was 
chiefly  employed  in  the  indulgence  of  this  unfashionable  and 
vulg-ar  propensity,  which,  if  it  had  no  other  tendency,  served 
greatly  to  draw  the  thoughts  of  both  the  young  women  from 
the  recollections  of  the  last  few  months. 

While  her  sister  and  nieces  were  thus  employed,  Mrs. 
Wilson,  assisted  by  Grace,  was  occupied  in  getting  things  in 
preparation  to  do  credit  to  the  baronet's  hospitality. 

The  second  week  after  their  arrival,  Mrs.  Moseley  was 
delighted  by  seeing  advance  upon  her  unexpectedly  through 
the  door  of  the  breakfast  parlor,  her  brother,  with  his  bride 
leaning  on  his  arm.  After  the  most  sincere  greetings  and 
congratulations,  Lady  Chatterton  cried  out  gaily,  ^ 

"  You  see,  my  dear  Lady  Moseley,  I  am  deternf^ied  to 
banish  ceremony  between  us,  and  so,  instead  of  sending  you 
my  card,  have  come  myself  to  notify  you  of  my  arrival. 
Chatterton  would  not  suffer  me  even  to  swallow  my  break- 
fast, he  was  so  impatient  to  show  me  off." 

"  You  are  placing  things  exactly  on  the  footing  I  wish  to 
see  ourselves  with  all  our  connexions,"  replied  Lady  Moseley, 
kindly  ;  "  but  what  have  you  done  with  the  tkike  ?  is  he  not 
in  your  train  ?" 

"  Oh  !  he  is  gone  to  Canterbury  with  George  Den 
b'gh,  madam,"  cried  the  lady,  shaking  her  head  reproach 
fully  though  affectionately  at  Emily ;  "  his  grace  dislikes 
London  just  now  excessively,  he  says,  and  the  Colonel 
being  obliged  to  leave  his  wife  on  regimental  business^ 
Derwent  was  goo  1  enough  to  keep  him  company  during  hia 
exile." 


PRECAUTION. 

**  And  Lady  Laura,  do  we  see  her  ?"  inquired  Lady 
Moseley. 

"  She  came  with  us.  Pendennyss  and  his  sister  follow 
immediately ;  so,  my  dear  madam,  the  dramatis  personse  will 
all  be  on  the  stage  soon." 

Cards  and  visits  now  began  to  accumulate  on  the  Moseleys, 
and  their  time  no  longer  admitted  of  that  unfettered  leisure 
which  they  had  enjoyed  at  their  entrance  on  the  scene.  Mrs. 
Wilson,  for  herself  and  charge,  adopted  a  rule  for  the  govern 
ment  of  her  manner  of  living,  which  was  consistent  with  hei 
duties.  They  mixed  in  general  society  sparingly ;  and, 
above  all,  they  rigidly  adhered  to  the  obedience  to  the  injunc- 
tion which  commanded  them  to  keep  the  Sabbath  day  holy ; 
a  duty  of  no  trifling  difficulty  to  perform  in  fashionable  society 
in  the  city  of  London,  or,  indeed,  in  any  other  place,  where 
the  influence  of  fashion  has  supplanted  the  laws  of  God. 

Mrs.  Wilson  was  not  a  bigot ;  but  she  knew  and  performed 
her  duly  rigidly.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  her  to  do  so.  It 
would  have  been  misery  to  do  otherwise.  In  the  singleness 
of  heart  and  deep  piety  of  her  niece,  she  had  a  willing  pupil 
to  her  system  of  morals,  and  a  rigid  follower  of  her  religious 
practices.  As  they  both  knew  that  the  temptations  to  go 
astray  were  greater  in  town  than  in  country,  they  kept  a 
strict  guard  over  the  tendency  to  err,  and  in  watchfulness 
found  their  gi'eatest  security. 

John  Moseley,  next  to  his  friends,  loved  his  bays :  indeed, 
if  the  aggregate  of  his  afiections  for  these  and  Lady  Herrie- 
field  had  been  put  in  opposite  scales,  we  strongly  suspect  the 
side  of  the  horses  would  predominate. 

One  Sunday,  soon  after  being  domesticated,  John,  who 
had  soberly  attended  morning  service  with  the  ladies,  came 
into  a  little  room  where  the  more  reflecting  part  of  the 
family  were  assembled,  in  search  of  his  wife. 


PUECAUTION.  399 

Grace,  we  liave  before  mentioned,  had  become  a  real  mem- 
ber of  that  cliuvch  in  which  she  had  been  educated,  and  had 
entered,  under  the  direction  of  Dr.  Ives  and  Mrs.  Wilson,  into 
an  observance  of  its  wholesome  ordinances.  Grace  was  cer- 
tainly piously  inclined,  if  not  devout.  Her  feelings  on  the 
subject  of  religion  had  been  sensibly  awakened  during  their 
voyage  to  Lisbon  ;  and  at  the  period  of  which  we  write,  Mrs 
Moseley  was  as  sincerely  disposed  to  perform  her  duty  as  her 
powers  admitted.  To  the  request  of  her  husband,  that  she 
would  take  a  seat  in  his  phaeton  while  he  drove  her  round 
tbe  park  once  or  twice,  Grace  gave  a  mild  refusal,  by  saying, 

"  It  is  Sunday,  my  dear  Moseley." 

"  Do  you  think  I  don't  know  that  ?"  cried  John,  gaily. 
"  There  will  be  everybody  there,  and,  the  better  day,  the 
better  deed." 

Now,  Moseley,  if  he  had  been  asked  to  apply  tliis  speech 
*o  the  case  before  them,  would  have  frankly  owned  bis  ina- 
bility ;  but  his  wife  did  not  make  the  trial :  she  was  con- 
tented with  saying,  as  she  laid  down  her  book  to  look  on  a 
face  she  so  tenderly  loved, 

"  Ah !  Moseley,  you  should  set  a  better  example  to  those 
below  you  in  life." 

"  I  wisli  to  set  an  example,"  returned  her  husband,  with 
an  affectionate  smile,  "  to  all  above  as  well  as  below  me,  in 
order  that  they  may  find  out  the  path  to  happiness,  by 
exhibiting  to  the  world  a  model  of  a  wife  in  yourself,  dear 
Grace."  • 

As  this  was  uttered  with  a  sincei-ity  which  distinguished 
the  manner  of  Moseley,  his  wife  was  more  pleased  with  the 
compliment  than  she  would  have  been  willing  to  make 
known ;  and  John  spoke  no  more  than  he  thought ;  for  a 
desire  to  show  his  handsome  ,wife  was  the  ruling  passion  fw 
R  moment. 


401  PRECAUTION. 

'i'he  husband  was  too  pressing  and  the  wife  too  fond  not  to 
yield  the  point;  and  Grace  took  her  seat  in  the  carriage  with 
a  kind  of  half-formed  resolution  to  improve  the  opportunit} 
by  a  discourse  on  serious  subjects — a  resolution  which  termi 
Dated  as  all  others  do,  that  postpone  one  duty  to  discharg 
another  of  less  magnitude ;  it  was  forgotten. 

Mrs.  Wilson  had  listened  with  interest  to  the  efforts  of  Joiin 
to  prevail  on  his  wife  to  take  the  ride,  and  on  her  leaving  the 
room  to  comply  she  observed  to  Emily,  with  whom  she  now 
remained  alone — 

"  Here  is  a  consequence  of  a  difference  in  religious  views 
between  man  and  wife,  my  child  :  John,  in  place  of  supporting 
Grace  in  the  discharge  of  her  duties,  has  been  the  actual 
cause  of  her  going  astray." 

Emily  felt  the  force  of  her  aunt's  remark,  and  saw  its  jus- 
tice; yet  her  love  for  the  offender  induced  her  to  say — 

*'John  will  not  lead  her  openly  astray,  for  he  has  a  sin- 
cere respect  for  religion,  and  this  offence  is  not  unpardonable, 
dear  aunt." 

"  The  offence  is  assuredly  not  unpardonable,"  replied  Mrs. 
Wilson,  "  and  to  infinite  mercy  it  is  hard  to  say  what  is ; 
but  it  is  an  offence,  and  directly  in  the  face  of  an  express 
ordinance  of  the  Lord  ;  it  is  even  throwing  off  the  appearance 
of  keeping  the  Sabbath  day  holy,  much  less  observing  the 
substance  of  the  commandment ;  and  as  to  John's  resjiect  for 
holy  things  in  this  instance,  it  was  injurious  to  his  wife.  Ha^ 
he  been  an  open  deist  she  would  llave  shrunk  from  the  act  ii 
suspicion  of  its  sinfulness.  Either  John  must  become 
Christian,  or  I  am  afraid  Grace  will  fall  from  her  under 
taking." 

Mrs.    Wilson   shook   her   head   mournfully,   while   Emily 
offered  uj?  a  silent  petition  that  the  first  might  speedily  be 
•the  case. 


PRECAUTIOlf.  401 

Lady  Laura  had  been  early  in  her  visit  to  the  Moseleys ; 
and  as  Denbigh  had  both  a  town  residence  and  a  seat  in  par- 
liament, it  appeared  next  to  impossible  to  avoid  meeting  him 
or  to  resjuite  the  pressing  civilities  of  his  wife  by  haish  refu- 
sals, that  might  prove  in  the  end  injurious  to  themselves  by 
creating  a  suspicion  that  resentment  at  his  not  choosing  a 
partner  from  amongst  them,  governed  the  conduct  of  the 
^loseleys  towards  a  man  to  whom  they  were  under  such  a 
heavy  obligation. 

Had  Sir  Edward  known  as  much  as  his  sister  and  daugh- 
ters he  would  probably  have  discountenanced  the  acquaint- 
ance altogether ;  but  owing  to  the  ignorance  of  the  rest  of 
her  friends  of  what  had  passed,  Mrs.  Wilson  and  Emily  had 
not  only  the  assiduities  of  Lady  Laura  but  the  wishes  of  their 
own  family  to  contend  with,  and  consequently  she  submitted 
to  the  association  with  a  reluctance  that  was  in  some  measure 
counteracted  by  their  regard  for  Lady  Laura,  and  by  com- 
passion for  her  abused  confidence. 

A  distant  connexion  of  Lady  Moseley's  had  managed  to 
collect  in  her  house  a  few  hundred  of  her  nominal  friends, 
and  as  she  had  been  particularly  attentive  in  calling  in  person 
on  her  venerable  relative,  Mr.  Benfield,  soon  after  his  arrival 
in  town,  out  of  respect  to  her  father's  cousin,  or  perhaps  mind- 
ful of  his  approaching  end,  and  remembering  there  were  such 
things  as  codicils  to  wills,  the  old  man,  flattered  by  her  notice, 
and  yet  too  gallant  to  reject  the  favor  of  a  lady,  consented  to 
accompany  the  remainder  of  the  family  on  the  occasion 

Most  of  their  acquaintances  were  there,  and  Lady  Mt/seley 
BOon  found  herself  engaged  in  a  party  at  quadrille,  while  th" 
young  people  were  occupied  by  the  usual  amusements  o 
their  age  in  such  scenes.  Emily  alone  feeling  but  little  desire 
to  enter  into  the  gaiety  of  general  conversation  with  a  host  of 
gentlemen  who  had  collected  round  her  aunt  and  sisters, 


402  PRECAUTION. 

off<ired  her  arm  to  Mr.  Benfield,  on  seeing  him  manifest  a  dis 
position  to  take  a  closer  view  of  the  company,  and  walked 
away  with  him. 

They  wandered  from  room  to  room,  unconscious  of  the 
observation  attracted  by  the  sight  of  a  man  in  the  costume 
of  Mr.  Benfield,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  so  young  and  lovely  a 
woman  as  his  niece ;  and  many  an  exclamation  of  surprise, 
ridicule,  admiration,  and  wonder  had  been  made,  unnoticed 
by  the  pair,  until  finding  the  crowd  rather  inconvenient  to  hei 
companion,  Emily  gently  drew  him  into  one  of  the  apart 
ments  where  the  card-tables,  and  the  general  absence  of 
beauty,  made  room  less  difficult  to  be  found. 

"  Ah !  Emmy  dear,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  wiping  his 
face,  "  times  are  much  changed,  I  see,  since  my  youth.  Then 
you  would  see  no  such  throngs  assembled  in  so  small  a 
bpace  ;  gentlemen  shoving  ladies,  and  yes,  Emmy,''  continued 
her  uncle  in  a  lower  tone,  as  if  afraid  of  uttering  something 
dangerous,  ''  the  ladies  themselves  shouldering  the  men.  I 
remember  at  a  drum  given  by  Lady  Gosford,  that  although 
I  may,  without  vanity,  say  I  wfis  one  of  the  gallantest 
men  in  the  rooms,  I  came  in  contact  with  but  one  of  the 
ladies  during  the  whole  evening,  with  the  exception  of  hand- 
ing the  Lady  Juliana  to  a  chair,  and  that,"  said  her  uncle, 
stopping  short  and  lowering  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  "  was 
occasioned  by  a  mischance  in  the  old  duchess  in  rising  from 
her  seat  when  she  had  taken  too  much  strong  waters,  as  si  e 
was  at  times  a  little  troubled  with  a  pain  in  the  chest." 

Emily  smiled  at  the  casualty  of  her  grace,  and  they  pro- 
ceeded slowly  through  the  table  until  their  passage  was 
stopped  by  a  party  at  the  game  of  whist,  which,  by  its  incon- 
gruous mixture  of  ages  and  character,  forcibly  drew  her 
attention. 

The  party  was  composed  of  a  young  man  of  five  or  six  and 


PRECAUTION.  403 

twenty,  who  threw  down  his  cards  in  careless  indifference, 
and  heedlessly  played  with  the  guineas  which  were  laid  on 
the  side  of  the  table  as  markers,  or  the  fruits  of  a  former  vic- 
tory :  or  by  stealing  hasty  and  repeated  jjjiances  through  the 
vista  of  the  tables  into  the  gayer  scenes  of  the  adjoining 
rooms,  proved  he  was  in  duresse,  and  waited  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  make  his  escape  from  the  tedium  of  cards  and  ugli 
ness  to  the  life  of  conversation  and  beauty. 

His  partner  was  a  woman  of  doubtful  age,  and  one  whose 
countenance  rather  indicated  that  the  uncertainty  was  likely 
to  continue  until  the  record  of  the  tomb-stone  divulged  the 
so  often  contested  circumstance  to  the  world.  Her  eyes  also 
wandered  to  the  gayer  scenes,  but  with  an  expression  of  cen- 
soriousness  mingkd  with  lori^ings ;  nor  did  she  neglect  the 
progress  of  the  game  as  frequently  as  her  more  heedless  part- 
ner. A  glance  thrown  on  the  golden  pair  which  was  placed 
between  her  and  her  neii^hbor  on  her  risfht,  marked  the  im- 
portance  of  the  corner,  and  she  shuffled  the  cards  with  a 
nervousness  which  plainly  denoted  her  apprehension  of  the 
consequences  of  her  partner's  abstraction. 

Her  neighbor  on  the  right  was  a  man  of  sixty,  and  his  vest- 
ments announced  him  a  servant  of  the  sanctuary.  His 
intentness  on  the  game  proceeded  no  doubt  from  his  habits 
of  reflection  ;  his  smile  at  success,  quite  possibly  from  charity 
to  his  neighbors  ;  his  frown  in  adversity  from  displeasure  at 
the  triumphs  of  the  wicked,  for  such  in  his  heart  he  had  set 
down  Miss  Wigram  to  be;  and  his  unconquerable  gravity  in 
the  employment  from  a  profound  regard  to  the  dignity  of  his 
holy  office. 

The  fourth  performer  in  this  trial  of  memories  was  an 
ancient  lady,  gaily  dressed,  and  intently  eager  od  the  game. 
Between  her  and  the  young  man  was  a  large  pile  of  guineas, 
which  appeared  to  be  her  exclusive  property,  from  which  she 


404  FRECAUTIONw 

repeatedly,  during  the  play,  tendered  one  to  his  acceptance  on 
the  event  of  a  hand  or  a  trick,  and  to  which  she  seldom  failed 
from  inadvertence  to  add  his  mite,  contributing  to  accumulate 
the  pile.  • 

"  Two  double  and  the  rub,  ray  dear  doctor,"  exclaimed  the 
senior  lady,  in  triumph.     "  Sir  William,  you  owe  me  ten." 

The  money  was  paid  as  easily  as  it  had  been  won,  and 
the  dow^ager  proceeded  to  settle  some  bets  with  her  female 
antagonist. 

"  Two  more,  I  fancy,  ma'am,"  said  she,  closely  scanning 
the  contributions  of  the  maiden. 

"  I  believe  it  is  right,  my  lady,"  was  the  answer,  with  a 
look  that  said  pretty  plainly,  that  or  nothing. 

*'  I  beg  pardon,  my  dear,  ftere  are  but  four ;  and  you 
remember  two  on  the  corner,  and  four  on  the  points.  Doc- 
tor, I  will  trouble  you  for  a  couple  of  guineas  from  Miss 
Wigram's  store,  I  am  in  haste  to  get  to  the  Countess's  route." 

The  doctor  was  coolly  helping  himself  from  the  said  store, 
under  the  watchful  eyes  of  its  owner,  and  secretly  exulting  in 
his  own  judgment  in  requiring  the  stakes,  when  the  maiden 
replied  in  great  warmth, 

"  Your  ladyship  forgets  the  two  you  lost  to  jiie  at  Mrs. 
Howard's." 

"  It  must  be  a  mistake,  my  dear,  I  always  pay  as  I  lose," 
cried  the  dowager,  with  great  spirit,  stretching  over  the 
table  and  helping  herself  to  the  disputed  money. 

Mr.  Benfield  and  Emily  had  stood  silent  spectators  of  the 
whole  scene,  the  latter  in  astonishment  to  meet  such  manners 
in  such  society,  and  the  former  under  feehngs  it  would  hav 
been  difficult  to  describe ;  for  in  the  face  of  the  Dowager 
which  was  inflamed  partly  from  passion  and  more  from  high 
living,  he  recognised  the  remains  of  his  Lady  Juliana,  now 
the  Dowager  Viscountess  Haverford. 


PRECAUTION.  405 

"  Emmy,  dear,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  heavj^-drawn 
sigh,  as  if  awaking  from  a  long  and  troubled  dream,  "  w« 
will  go." 

The  phantom  of  forty  years  had  vanished  before  the  truth 
and  the  fancies  of  retirement,  simplicity,  and  a  diseased  ima- 
gination yielded  to  the  iufluence  of  life  and  common  sense. 


406  PRECAiTTION 


CHAPTER  XL. 

With  Harriet,  now  closely  connected  with  them  by  mar- 
riage as  well  as  attachment,  the  baronet's  family  maintained 
a  most  friendly  intercourse ;  and  Mrs.  Wilson,  and  Emily,  a 
prodigious  favorite  with  her  new  cousin,  consented  to  pass  a 
day  soberly  with  her  during  an  excursion  of  her  husband  to 
Windsor  on  business  connected  with  his  station.  They  had, 
accordingly,  driven  round  to  an  early  breakfast;  and  Chat- 
terton,  after  politely  regretting  his  loss,  and  thanking  them 
for  their  consideration  for  his  wife,  made  his  bow. 

Lady  Harriet  Denbigh  had  brought  the  Baron  a  very  sub- 
stantial addition  to  his  fortune ;  and  as  his  sisters  were  both 
provided  for  by  ample  settlements,  the  pecuniary  distresses 
which  had  existed  a  twelvemonth  before  had  been  entirely 
removed.  Chatterton's  income  was  now  large,  his  demands 
upon  it  small,  and  he  kept  up  an  establishment  in  proportion 
to  the  rank  of  both  husband  and  wife. 

"  Mi-s.  Wilson,"  cried  the  hostess,  twirling  her  cup  as  she 
followed  with  her  eyes  th&  retreating  figure  of  her  husband 
at  the  door,  "  I  am  about  to  take  up  the  trade  of  Miss  Harris, 
'and  become  a  match-maker." 

"  Not  on  your  own  behalf  so  soon,  surely./'  rejoined  the 
widow. 

"  Oh  no,  my  fortune  is  made  for  life,  or  not  at  all,"  con- 
tinued the  other,  gaily ;  "  but  in  behalf  of  our  httle  friend 
Emily  here." 

"  Me,"  cried  Emily,  starting  from  a  reverie,  in  which  th« 


PRECAUTION.  407 

(*rospect  of  happiness  to  Lady  Laura  was  the  subject;  "you 

e  very  good,  Harriet ;  for  whom  do  you  intend  me  ?" 

"  Whom !    Who  is  good  enough  for  you,  but  my  cousin 
xlennyss  ?    Ah  !"    she    cried,    laughing,    as   she    caught 

lily  by  the  hand,  "Derwent  and  myself  both  settled  the 
matter  long  since,  and  I  know  you  will  yield  when  you  come 
to  know  him." 

"  The  duke  !"  cried  the  other,  with  a  surprise  and  innocence 
that  immediately  brought  a  blush  of  the  brightest  vermillion 
into  her  face. 

*'  Yea,  the  duke,"  said  Lady  Chatterton  :  "  you  may  think 
it  odd  for  a  discarded  lover  to  dispose  of  his  mistress  so  soon, 
but  both  our  hearts  are  set  upon  it.  The  earl  arrived  last 
night,  and  this  day  he  and  his  sister  dine  with  us  in  a  sober 
way  :  now,  my  dear  madam,"  turning  to  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  have 
I  not  prepared  an  agreeable  surprise  for  you  V" 

"  Surprise  indeed,"  said  the  widow,  excessively  gratified  at 
the  probable  teimination  to  her  anxieties  for  this  meeting; 
"  but  where  are  they  from  V 

"  From  Northamptonshire,  where  the  earl  has  ah-eady  pur- 
chased a  residence,  I  understand,  and  in  your  neighborhood 
too ;  so,  you  perceive,  he  at  least  begins  to  think  of  the  thing." 

•'  A  certain  evidence,  truly,"  cried  Emily,  "  his  having 
purchased  the  house.  But  was  he  without  a  residence  that 
he  bought  the  deanery  ?" 

"  Oh  no  !  he  has  a  palace  in  town,  and  three  seats  in  the 
ountry  ;  but  none  in  Northamptonshij-e  but  this,"  said  the 
lady,  with  a  laugh.  "  To  own  the  truth  he  did  offer  to  let 
George  Denbigh  have  it  for  the  next  summer,  but  the  G)lo- 
ne-1  chose  to  be  nearer  Eltringham  ;  and  T  take  it,  it  was  only 
a  ruse  in  the  earl  to  cloak  his  own  designs.  You  may  de 
pend  upon  it,  we  trumpeted  your  praises  to  him  incessantly 
in  Westmoreland." 


408  PRECAUTION. 

"  And  is  Colonel  Denbigh  in  town  ?"  said  Mrs.  Wilson, 
stealing  an  anxious  glance  towards  her  niece,  who,  in  spite 
of  all  her  efforts,  sensibly  changed  color. 

'*  Oh,  yes !  and  Laura  is  as  happy — as  happy — as  myself," 
feaid  Lady  Chatterton,  with  a  glow  on  her  cheeks,  as  she 
uttended  to  the  request  of  her  housekeeper,  and  left  the  room. 

Her  guests  sat  in  silence,  occupied  with  their  own  reflec 
tions,  while  they  heard  a  summons  at  the  door  of  the  house. 
It  wjis  opened,  and  footsteps  approached  the  door  of  their 
own   room.     It  was  pushed  partly  open,  as  a  voice  on  the 
other  side  said,  speaking  to  a  servant  without, — 

"Very  well.  Do  not  disturb  your  lady.  I.  am  in  no 
haste." 

At  the  sound  of  its  well  known  tones,  both  the  ladies 
almost  sprang  from  their  seats.  Here  could  be  no  resem- 
blance, and  a  moment  removed  their  doubts.  The  speaker 
entered.     It  w.as  Denbigh. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  fixed  as  a  statue.  It  was  evident 
the  surprise  was  mutual.  His  face  was  pale  as  death,  and 
then  instantly  was  succeeded  by  a  glow  of  fire.  Approach- 
ing them,  he  paid  his  compliments  with  great  earnestness, 
and  in  a  voice  in  which  his  softest  tones  pueponderated. 

"  I  am  happy,  very  happy,  to  be  so  fortunate  in  again 
meeting  with  such  friends,  and  so  unexpectedly." 

Mrs.  Wilson  bowed  in  silence  to  his  compliment,  and 
Emily,  pale  as  himself,  sat  with  her  eyes  fastened  on  the 
carpet,  without  daring  to  trust  her  voice  with  an  attempt  (o 
speak. 

After  struggling  with  his  mortified  feehngs  for  a  moment, 
Denbigh  rose  from  the  chair  he  had  taken,  and  drawing 
near  the  sofa  on  which  the  ladies  were  placed,  exclaimed 
with  fervor, 

"  Tell  me,  dear  madam,  lovely,  too  lovely  Miss  Moseley, 


PRECAUTION.  409 

lias  one  net  of  folly,  of  wickedness  if  you  please,  lost  me 
your  goci  opinion  for  ever  ?  Derwent  had  given  me  hopes 
that  you  yet  retained  some  esteem  for  ray  character,  lowered, 
as  I  acknowledge  it  to  be,  in  ray  own  estimation." 

"  The  Duke  of  Derwent  ?  Mr.  Denbigh  !" 

"  Do  not,  do  not  use  a  name,  dear  madam,  almost* hateful 
to  me,"  cried  he,  in  a  tone  of  despair. 

*'  If,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  gravely,  "  you  have  made  your 
own  name  disreputable,  I  can  only  regret  it,  but — " 

"  Call  me  by  my  title — oh  !  do  not  remind  me  of  my 
folly  ;  I  cannot  bear  it,  and  from  you." 

"Your  title  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilson,  with  a  cry  of  won- 
der, and  Emily  turned  on  him  a  face  in  which  the  flashes 
of  color  and  succeeding  paleness  were  as  quick,  and  almost 
as  vivid,  as  the  glow  of  lightning.  He  caught  their  astonish- 
ment in  equal  surprise. 

"  How  is  this  ?  some  dreadful  mistake,  of  which  I  am  yet 
in  ignorance,"  he  cried,  taking  the  unresisting  hand  of  Mrs. 
Wilson,  and  pressing  it  with  warmth  between  both  his  own, 
as  he  added,  "  do  not  leave  me  in  suspense." 

"  For  the  sake  of  truth,  for  my  sake,  for  the  sake  of  this 
suff*ering  innocent,  say,  in  sincerity,  who  and  what  you  are," 
said  Mrs,  W^ilson  in  a  solemn  voice,  gazing  on  him  in  dread 
of  his  reply. 

Still  retaining  her  hand,  he  dropped  on  his  knees  befo're 
her,  as  he  answered, — 

"  I  am  the  pupil,  the  child  of  your  late  husband,  the  com  - 
panion  of  his  dangers,  the  sharer  of  his  joys  and  griefs,  and 
would  1  could  add,  the  friend  of  his  widow.  I  am  the  Eaii 
of  Pendennyss." 

Mrs.  Wilson's  head  dropped  on  the  shouldei^  of  the 
kneeling  youth,  her  arms  were  thrown  in  fervor  around  his 
neck,  and  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears.  For  a  moment, 
18 


410  PRECAUTION. 

both  were  absorbed  in  their  own  feelings  ',  but  a  cry  from 
Pendennyss  aroused  the  aunt  to  the  situation  of  her  niece. 

Emily  had  fallen  senseless  on  the  sofa. 

An  hour  elapsed  before  her  engagements  admitted  of 
the  return  of  Lady  Chatterton  to  the  breakfast  parlor,  where 
she  was  surprised  to  find  the  breakfast  equipage  yet  standing, 
and  her  cousin,  the  earl.  Looking  from  one  to  the  other  in 
surprise,  she  exclaimed, — 

"  Very  sociable,  upon  my  word  ;  how  long  has  your  lord- 
ship honored  my  house  with  your  presence,  and  have  you 
taken  the  liberty  to  introduce  yourself  to  Mrs.  Wilson  and 
Miss  Moseley  ?" 

*'  ^Sociability  and  ease  are  the  fashion  of  the  day.  I  have 
been  here  an  hour,  ray  dear  coz,  and  have  taken  the  liberty 
of  introducing  myself  to  Mrs.  Wilson  and  Miss  Moseley," 
replied  the  earl  gravely,  although  a  smile  of  meaning  lighted 
his  handsome  features  as  he  uttered  the  latter  part  of  the 
sentence,  which  was  returned  by  Emily  with  a  look  of  arch- 
ness and  pleasure  that  would  have  graced  her  happiest 
moments  of  juvenile  joy. 

There  was  such  an  interchange  of  looks,  and  such  a  visible 
alteration  in  the  appearance  of  her  guests,  that  it  could  not 
but  attract  the  notice  of  Lady  Chatterton.  After  listening 
to  the  conversation  between  them  for  some  time  in  silence, 
and  wondering  what  could  have  wrought  so  sudden  a  change 
below  stairs,  she  broke  forth  with  saying, — 

"  Upon  my  word,  you  are  an  incomprehensible  party  to 
:ne.  I  left  you  ladies  alone,  and  find  a  gentleman  with  jou, 
T  left  you  grave,  if  not  melancholy,  and  find  you  all  life  and 
gaiety.*  I  find  you  with  a  stranger,  and  you  talk  with  him 
about  walks,  and  rides,  and  scenes,  and  acquaintances.  Will 
yoUy  madam,  oi-  yow,  my  lord,  be  so  kind  as  to  explain  these 
seeming  inconsistencies  ?" 


PltECAUTION.  411 

"  No,"  cripd  the  earl,  "  to  punish  your  ouriosity,  I  will 
keep  you  in  iornorance  ;  but  Marian  is  in  waiting  for  me  at 
youv  neighbor's,  Mrs.  Wilmot,  and  I  must  hasten  to  her — 
you  will  see  us  both  by  five."  Rising  from  his  seat  he  took 
the  offered  hand  of  Mrs.  Wilson  and  pressed  it  to  his  hps 
To  Emily  he  also  extended  his  hand,  and  received  hers  in 
return,  though  with  u  face  suffused  with  the  color  of  tha 
rose.  Pendennyss  held  it  to  his  heart  for  a  moment  with 
fervor,  and  kissing  it,  precipitately  left  the  room.  Emily 
concealed  her  face  with  her  hands,  and,  dissolving  in  tears, 
sought  the  retirement  of  an  adjoining  apartment. 

All  these  unaccountable  movements  filled  Lady  Chatterton 
with  amazement,  that  would  have  been  too  painful  for  fur- 
ther endurance  ;  and  Mrs.  Wilson,  knowing  that  further 
concealmetit  with  so  near  a  connexion  would  be  impossible, 
if  not  unnecessary,  entered  into  a  brief  explanation  of  the 
earl's  masquerade  (although  ignorant  herself  of  its  cause,  or 
of  the  means  of  supporting  it),  and  his  present  relation  with 
her  niece. 

"  I  declare  it  is  provoking,"  cried  Lady  Chatterton,  with  a 
tear  in  her  eye,  "  to  have  such  ingenious  plans  as  Derwent 
and  I  had  made  lost  from  the  want  of  necessity  in  putting 
them  in  force.  Your  demure  niece  has  deceived  us  all 
handsomely ;  and  my  rigid  cousin,  too — I  will  rate  him 
soundly  for  his  deception." 

"  I  believe  he  already  repents  sincerely  of  his  having 
practised  it,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  and  is  sufficiently  punished 
for  his  error  by  its  consequence.  A  life  of  misery  for  foui 
months  is  a  serious  penalty  to  a  lover." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other;  '•  I  am  afraid  his  punishment  was 
not  confined  to  himself  alone  :  he  has  made  othera  suffer 
from  his  misconduct.  1  will  rate  him  famously,  depend  upon 
it  I  wiH'* 


412  PRECAUTION. 

If  anything,  the  interest  felt  by  Lady  Chatterton  for  her 
friend  was  increased  by  this  discovery  of  the  affections  of 
Pendennyss,  and  a  few  hours  were  passed  by  the  three,  in 
we  will  not  say  sober  delight,  for  transport  would  be  a  belter 
word.  Lady  Chatterton  frankly  declared  that  she  would 
rather  see  Emily  the  wife  of  the  earl  than  of  her  brother,  for 
he  alone  was  good  enough  for  her  •  and  Mi-s.  Wilson  felt  an 
exhilaration  of  spirits,  in  the  completion  of  her  most  sanguine 
wishes,  that  neither  her  years,  her  philosophy,  nor  even  her 
religion,  could  entirely  restrain.  The  face  of  Emily  was  a 
continued  blush,  her  eye  sparkled  with  the  lustre  of  renewed 
hope,  and  her  bosom  was  heaving  with  the  purest  emotions 
of  happiness. 

At  the  appointed  hour  the  rattling  of  wheels  announced 
the  approach  of  the  earl  and  his  sister. 

Pendennyss  came  into  the  room  with  a  young  woman  of 
great  personal  beauty  and  extremely  feminine  manners,  lean- 
ing on  his  arm.  He  first  announced  her  to  Mrs.  Wilson  as 
his  sister,  Lady  Marian  Denbigh,  who  received  her  with  a 
frank  cordiality  that  made  them  instantly  acquainted.  Emily, 
although  confiding  in  the  fullest  manner  in  the  truth  and 
worth  of  her  lover,  had  felt  an  inexphcable  sensation  of  plea- 
sure, as  she  heard  the  earl  speak  of  his  sister  by  the  name  of 
Marian  ;  love  is  such  an  unquiet,  and  generally  such  an  en- 
grossing passion,  that  few  avoid  unnecessary  uneasiness  while 
under  its  influence,  unless  so  situated  as  to  enjoy  a  mutual 
confidence. 

As  this  once  so  formidable  Marian  approached  to  salute 
her  with  an  extended  hand,  Emily  rose,  with  a  face  illumined 
with  pleasure,  to  receive  her.  Marian  viewed  her  for  a  mo- 
ment intently,  and  folding  her  arms  around  her,  whispered 
Boftly  as  she  pressed  her  to  her  heart, 

"  My  sister,  my  only  sister."  ♦ 


PRECAUTION.  413 

Oui*  heroine  was  affected  to  tears,  and  Pendennyss  gently 
separating  the  two  he  loved'  best  in  the  world,  they  soon 
became  calm. 

Lady  Marian  was  extremely  like  her  brother,  and  had  a 
family  resemblance  to  her  cousin  Harriet;  but  her  manners 
were  softer  and  more  retiring,  and  she  had  a  slight  tinge  of 
a  settled  melancholy.  When  her  brother  spoke  she  was 
generally  silent,  not  in  fear,  but  in  love.  She  evidently 
regarded  him  amongst  the  fii'st  of  human  beings,  and  all  her 
love  was  amply  returned. 

Both  the  aunt  and  niece  studied  the  manners  of  the  eail 
closely,  and  found  several  shades  of  distinction  between  what 
he  was  and  what  he  had  been.  He  was  now  the  perfect  man 
of  the  world,  without  having  lost  the  frank  sincerity  which 
caused  you  to  believe  all  he  said.  Had  Pendennyss  once 
told  Mrs.  Wilson,  with  his  natural  air  and  manner,  "  I  am 
innocent,"  she  would  have  believed  him,  and  an  earlier  inves- 
tigation would  have  saved  them  months  of  misery ;  but  the 
consciousness  of  his  deception  had  oppressed  him  with  the 
curse  of  the  wicked. 

Pendennyss  had  lost  that  air  of  embarrassment  and  alarm 
which  had  so  often  startled  the  aunt,  even  in  her  hours  of 
greatest  confidence,  and  which  had  their  original  in  the 
awkwardness  of  disguise.  But  he  retained  his  softness,  his 
respect,  his  modest  diffidence  of  his  opinions,  although  some- 
what corrected  now  by  his  acknowledged  experience  and 
acquaintance  with  man. 

Mrs.  Wilson  thought  these  decided  trifling  alterations  in 
manner  were  improvements ;  but  it  required  some  days  and 
a  few  tender  speeches  to  reconcile  Emih'  ' '  any  change  in 
the  appearance  of  Denbigh. 

Lady  Marian  had  ordered  her  carriage  early,  as  she  had  no* 
tnticipated  the  pleasure  she  found,  and  was  engaged  to  ac 


414  PRECAUTION. 

company  her  cousin,  Lady  Laura,  to  a  fashionable  r<  at  thai 
evening.  Unwilling  to  be  toin  from  his  newly  found  friends, 
the  earl  proposed  that  the  three  ladies  should  accompany  his 
sister  to  Annerdale  House,  and  then  accept  himself  as  an 
escort  to  their  own  residence.  To  this  Harriet  assented, 
and  leaving  a  message  for  Chatterton,  they  entered  the  coach 
of  Marian,  and  Pendennyss,  mounting  the  dickey,  drove  off. 

Annerdale  House  was  amongst  the  best  edifices  of  London. 
It  had  been  erected  in  the  preceding  century,  and  Emily  for  a 
moment  felt,  as  she  went  through  its  splendid  apartments, 
that  it  threw  a  chill  around  her  domestic  affections  ;  but  the 
figure  of  Pendennyss  by  her  side  reconciled  her  to  a  magni- 
ficence she  had  been  unused  to,  which  looked  the  lord  indeed  ; 
but  with  so  much  modesty  and  softness,  and  so  much  atten- 
tion to  herself,  that  before  she  left  the  l^ouse,  Emily  began  to 
think  it  very  possible  to  enjoy  hapfpines-s  even  in  the  lap  of 
splendor. 

The  names  of  Colonel  Denbigh  and  Lat  \  Laura  were  soon 
announced,  and  this  formidable  gentleman  made  his  appear- 
ance. He  resembled  Pendennyss  more  than  ftven  the  duke, 
and  appeared  about  the  same  age. 

Mrs.  Wilson  soon  saw  that  she  had  no  gi'ounds  for  pitying 
Lady  Laura.  The  colont^l  was  a  polished,  elegant  man,  of  evi- 
dent good  sense  and  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  apparently 
devoted  to  his  wife.  He  was  called  George  frequently  by 
all  his  relatives,  and  he,  not  unfrequently,  used  the  same  term 
himself  in  speaking  to  the  earl.  Something  was  said  of  a 
much  admired  bust,  and  the  doors  of  a  large  library  were 
opened  to  view  it.  Emily  was  running  over  the  backs  of  a 
case  of  books,  until  her  eye  rested  on  one;  and  hall  smiling 
and  blushing  she  turned  to  Pendennyss,  who  wa^«l  '  *  "^v  "^n 
movement,  as  she  said,  playfully, 

"  Pity  me,  my  lord,  and  lend  me  this  volume.'' 


PRE C A U!  ION.  415 

**What  is  it  you  read  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  bowed  his  cheer- 
ful assent. 

But  Emily  hid  the  book  in  lier  handkerchief.  Pend-ennyss 
noticing  an  unwillingness,  though  an  extremely  playful  one, 
to  let  him  into  the  secret,  examined  the  case,  and  perceiving 
her  motive,  smiled,  as  he  took  down  another  volume  and 
said — 

"  I  am  not  an  Irish,  but  an  English  peer,  Emily.  You  ha  > 
the  wrong  volume." 

Emily  laughed,  with  deeper  blushes,  when  she  found  her 
wishes  detected,  while  tbe  earl,  opening  the  volume  he  held 
— the  first  of  Debrett's  Peerage — pointed  with  his  finger  to 
the  article  concerning  his  own  family,  and  said  to  Mrs.  Wil- 
son, who  had  joined  them  at  the  instant — 

"To-morrow,  dear  madam,  I  shall  beg  your  attention  to  a 
melancholy  tale,  and  which  may,  in  some  slight  degree,  ex- 
tenuate the  offence  I  was  guilty  of  in  assuming,  or  rather  in 
maintaining  an  accidental  disguise." 

A&  he  ended,  he  went  to  the  others,  to  draw  off  their  atten- 
tion, while  Emily  and  her  aunt  examined  the  paragraph.  It 
was  as  follows  : 

"•  George  Denbigh — Earl  of  Pendennyss — and  Baron  Lum- 
ley,  of  Lumley  Castle — Baron  Pendennyss — Beaumaris,  and 
Fitz waiter,  born ,  of  ,  in  the  year  of ;  a  ba- 
chelor." The  list 'of  earls  and  nobles  occupied  several  pages, 
but  the  closing  article  was  as  follows  : 

*'  George,  the  21st  earl,  succeeded  his  mother  Marian,  late 
Countess  of  Pendennyss,  in  her  own  right,  being  born  of  her 
marriage  with  George  Denbigh,  Esq.,  a  cousin-german  lo 
Frederick,  the  9th  Duke  of  Derwent." 

"  Heir  apparent.  The  titles  being  to  heirs  general,  will 
descend  to  his  lordship's  sister,  Lady  Marian  Denbigh,  should 
the  present. earl  die  without  lawful  issue," 


416  PRECAUTION. 

As  much  of  the  explanation  of  the  mystery  of  our  taL    s 

involved  in  the  foregoing  paragraphs,  we  may  be  allowed  co 

relate  in   our   own  language,   what  Pendennyss   made   hi« 

friends  acquainted  with  at  diflferent  times,  and  in  a  mannei 

uitable  to  the  subject  and  his  situation. 


PRKCATSTfOtf.  'll? 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  that  war  which  lost  this  country  the 
wealthiest  and  most  populous  of  her  American  colonies,  that 
a  fleet  of  ships  were  .returning  from  their  service  amongst  the 
islands  of  the  New  World,  to  seek  for  their  worn  out  and 
battered  hulks,  and  equally  weakened  crews,  the  repairs  and 
comforts  of  England  and  home. 

The  latter  word,  to  the  mariner  the  most  endearing  of  all 
sounds,  had,  as  it  were,  drawn  together  by  instinct  a  group 
of  sailors  on  the  forecastle  of  the  proudest  ship  of  the  squad- 
ron, who  gazed  with  varied  emotions  on  the  land  which  gave 
them  birth,  but  with  one  common  feeling  of  joy  that  the  day 
of  attaininfr  it  was  at  lenorth  arrived. 

The  water  curled  from  the  bows  of  this  castle  of  the  ocean, 
in  increasing  waves  and  growing  murmurs,  that  at  times  drew 
the  attention  of  the  veteran  tar  to  their  quickening  progress, 
and  having  cheered  his  heart  with  the  sight,  he  cast  his  expe- 
rienced eye  in  silence  on  the  swelling  sails,  to  see  if  nothing 
more  could  be  done  to  shorten  the  distance  between  him  and 
his  country. 

Hundreds  of  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  land  of  their  birth,  and 
hundreds  of  hearts  were  beating  in  that  one  vessel  with  tht- 
awakening  delights  of  domestic  love  and  renewed  affection-  ; 
but  no  tongue  broke  the  disciplined  silence  of  the  ship  into 
sounds  that  overcame  the  propitious  ripple  of  the  water. 

On  the  hij^hest  summit  of  their  towerinor  mast  floated  a 
small  blue  flag,  the  symbol  of  authority,  and  beneath  it 
paced  a  man  to  and  fro  the  deck,  who  was  abandoned  by  his 
IS* 


418  PRECAUTION. 

inferiors  to  his  more  elevated  rank.  His  square-built  form 
and  careworn  features,  which  had  lost  the  brilliancy  of  an 
English  complexion,  and  hair  whitened  prematurely,  spoke 
of  bodily  vigor,  and  arduous  services  which  had  put  that 
vigor  to  the  severest  trials. 

At  each  turn  of  his  walk,  as  he  faced  the  land  of  his 
nativity,  a  lurking  smile  stole  over  his  sun-burnt  features,  and 
then  a  glance  of  his  eye  would  scan  the  progress  of  the 
far-stretched  squadron  which  obeyed  his  orders,  and  which 
he  was  now  returning  to  his  superiors,  undiminished  in 
numbers,  and  proud  with  victory. 

By  himself  stood  an  officer  in  a  uniform  differing  fiom  all 
around  him.  His  figure  was  small,  his  eye  restless,  quick, 
and  piercing,  and  bent  on  those  shores  to  which  he  was 
unwillingly  advancing,  with  a  look  of  anxiety  and  mOrtifica- 
'tion,  that  showed  him  the  late  commander  of  those  vessels 
around  them,  which,  by  displaying  their  double  flags,  mani- 
fested to  the  eye  of  the  seaman  a  recent  change  of  masters. 

Occasionally  the  conqueror  would  stop,  and  by  some 
effort  of  well  meant,  but  rather  uncouth  civility,  endeavor  to 
soften  the  hours  of  captivity  ;  efforts  which  were  received 
with  the  courtesy  of  the  most  punctilious  etiquette,  but  a 
restraint  which  showed  that  they  were  unwelcome. 

It  was,  perhaps,  the  most  unlucky  moment  that  had 
occurred  within  tlie  two  months  of  their  association,  for  an 
excbanofe  of  their  better  feelinofs.  The  honest  heart  of  the 
English  tar  dilated  with  ill-concealed  delight  at  his  approach 
to  tlie  termination  of  labors  performed  with  credit  and 
honor,  and  his  smiles  and  good  humor,  which  partly  pro- 
ceeded from  the  feelings  of  a  father  and  a  friend,  wore 
dasrsfers  to  the  heart  of  his  discomfited  rival. 

A  third  personage  now  appeared  from  the  cabin  of  the 
vessel,  and  approached  the  spot  where  the  advei-se  admirals 


PRECAUTION.  419 

at  the  moment  were  engaged  in  one  of  these  constrained 
conferences. 

The  appearance  and  dress  of  this  gentleman  differed 
widely  from  the  two  just  described.  He  was  tall,  graceful, 
and  dignified  ;  he  was  a  soldier,  and  clearly  of  high  rank. 
His  carefully  dressed  hair  concealed  the  ravages  of  time, 
and  on  the  quarter-deck  of  a  first-rate  his  attire  and  manners 
were  suited  to  a  field-day  in  the  park. 

"  I  really  insist,  monsieur,"  cried  the  admiral,  good- 
naturedly,  "  that  you  shall  take  part  of  my  chaise  to  London. 
You  are  a  stranger,  and  it  will  help  to  keep  up  your  spirits 
by  the  way." 

"  You  are  very  good,  Monsieur  Howell,"  replied  the 
Frenchman,  with  a  polite  baw  and  forced  smile,  misconstru- 
ing ill-judged  benevolence  into  a  wish  for  his  person  to 
grace  a  triumph — "  but  I  have  accepted  the  offer  Monsieur 
le  General  Denbisfh  was  so  sfood  as  to  make  me." 

"  The  comte  is  engaged  to  me,  Howell,"  said  the  general, 
with  a  courtly  smile,  '*  and,  indeed,  you  must  leave  the  ship 
to-night,  or  as  soon  as  we  anchor. — But  I  shall  take  daylight 
and  to-morrow." 

"  Well — well — Denbiorh,"  exclaimed  the  other,  rubbinjor 
his  hands  with  pleasure  as  he  viewed  the  increasing  power 
of  the  wind,  **  only  make  yourselves  happy,  and  1  am  con- 
tented." 

A  few  hours  intervened  before  they  reached  the  Bay  of 
Plymouth,  and  round  the  table,  after  their  dinner,  were 
seated  the  general  and  English  admiral.  The  comte,  under 
the  pretence  of  preparing  his  things  for  a  removal,  had 
retired  to  his  apartment  to  conceal  liis  feelings  ; — and  the 
captain  of  the  ship  was  above,  superintending  the  approach 
of  the  vessel  to  her  anchorage.  Two  or  three  well  emptied 
bottles  of  wine  yet  »  'mained  ;   btit  as  the  healths  of  all  the 


420  PRECAUTION. 

branches  of  the  House  of  Brunswick  liad  been  propitiated 
from  their  contents,  with  a  polite  remembrance  of  Louis  XVI. 
and  Marie  Antoinette  from  General  Denbigh,  neither  of  the 
superiors  was  much  inclined  for  action. 

"  Is  the  Thunderer  in  her  station  ?"  said  the  admiral  to 
the  signal  lieutenant,  who  at  that  moment  came  below  with 
a  report. 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  has  answered." 

•*  Very  well ;  make  the  signal  to  prepare  to  anchor.'* 

"Aye,  aye,  sir." 

"  And  here,  Bennet,"  to  the  retiring  lieutenant — "  call  the 
transports  all  in  shore  of  us." 

"Three  hundred  and  eighty-four,  sir,"  said  the  officer, 
looking  at  his  signal-book. 

The  admiral  cast  his  eye  at  the  book,  and  nodded  an 
assent. 

"  And  let  the  Mermaid — Flora — Weasel — Bruiser,  and  al'. 
the  sloops  lie  well  off,  until  we  have  landed  the  soldiei-s  :  the 
pilot  says  the  channel  is  full  of  luggers,  and  Jonathan  has 
grown  very  saucy." 

The  lieutenant  made  a  complying  bow,  and  was  retiring 
to  execute  these  o/ders,  as  Admiral  Howell,  taking  up  a 
bottle  not  yet  entirely  deserted  by  its  former  tenant,  cried 
stoutly — "  Here,  Bennet — I  forgot — take  a  glass  of  wine  ; 
drink  success  to  ourselves,  and  defeat  to  the  French  all  over 
the  world.'* 

The  general  pointed  significantly  to  the  adjoining  cabin 
of  the  French  admiral,  as  he  pressed  his  hand  on  nis  lips  fo 
silence. 

'•  Oh  !"  cried  Admiral  Howell,  recollecting  himself,  con 
tinuing  in  a  whisper,  "  you  can  drink  it  in  your  heart, 
notwithstanding." 

The  signal  officer  nodded,  and  drank  the  liquor.     As  h* 


PRECAUTION.  42J 

Bmacked  his  lips  while  going  on  deck,  he  thought  to  himself, 
these  nabobs  drink  famous  good  wine. 

Although  the  feelings  of  General  Denbigh  were  under 
much  more  command  and  disciplined  obedience  than  those 
of  his  friend,  yet  was  he  too  unusually  elated  with  his  return 
to  home  and  expected  honors.  If  the  admiral  had  captured 
a  fleet,  he  had  taken  an  island  ; — and  hand  in  hand  they 
had  co-operated  in  unusual  harmony  through  the  difficulties 
of  an  arduous  campaign.  This  rather  singular  circumstance 
was  owing  to  their  personal  friendship.  From  their  youth 
they  had  been  companions,  and  although  of  very  different 
characters  and  habits,  chance  had  cemented  their  intimacy 
in  more  advanced  life.  While  in  subordinate  stations,  they 
had  been  associated  together  in  service  ;  and  the  general 
and  admiral,  in  command  of  an  army  and  fleet,  had  once 
before  returned  to  England  with  less  renown,  as  a  colonel 
and  a  captain  of  a  frigate.  The  great  family  influencp  of 
the  soldier,  with  the  known  circumstance  of  their  harmony, 
had  procured  them  this  later  command,  and  home,  with  its 
comforts  and  rewards,  was  close  before  them.  Pouring  out 
a  glass  of  Madeira,  the  general,  who  always  calculated  whj*t 
he  said,  exclaimed, 

"  Peter — we  have  been  friends  from  boys." 

"  To  be  sure  we  have,"  said  the  admiral,  looking  up  in  a 
little  surprise  at  this  unexpected  commencement — "  and  it 
will  not  be  my  fault  if  we  do  not  die  such,  Frederick." 

Dying  was  a  subject  the  general  did  not  much  delight  in 
although  of  conspicuous  courage  in  the  field  ;  and  he  pro 
'^eeded  to  his  more  important  purpose — 

"  I  could  never  find,  although  1  have  looked  over  our  familjr 
tree  so  often,  that  we  aie  in  any  manner  related,  Howell." 

"  I  believe  it  is  too  late  to  mend  that  matter  now,"  said  tbe 
admiral,  musing. 


422  PJIE  CAUTION. 

"  Wh}-  no — hem — I  think  not,  Howell ;  take  a  glass  of 
this  Burgundy." 

The  admiral  shook  his  head  With  a  stubborn  resolution  to 
taste  nothing  French,  but  he  helped  himself  to  a  bountiful 
Btock  of  Madeira,  as  he  replied — 

"  I  should  like  to  know  how  you  can  bring  it  about  this 
time  of  day,  Denbigh." 

"  How  much  money  will  you  be  able  to  give  that  girl  of 
yoiirs,  Peter?"  said  his  friend,  evading  the  point. 

"  Forty  thousand  down,  my  good  fellow,  and  as  much 
more  when  I  die,"  cried  the  open-hearted  sailor,  with  a  nod 
of  exultation. 

"  George,  my  youngest  son,  will  not  be  rich — but  Francis 
will  be  a  duke,  and  have  a  noble  estate ;  yet,"  said  the  gene- 
ral, meditating,  "he  is  so  unhappy  in  his  disposition  and 
uncouth  in  his  manners,  I  cannot  think  of  offering  him  to 
your  daughter  as  a  husband." 

"Isabel  shall  marry  a  good-natured  man,  like  myself,  or 
not  at  all,"  said  the  admiral,  positively,  but  not  in  the  least 
suspecting  the  drift  of  his  friend,  who  was  influenced  by  any- 
thing but  a  regard  for  the  lady's  liappiness. 

Francis,  his  first  born,  was,  in  truth,  as  he  had  described  ; 
but  his  governing  wish  was  to  provide  for  his  favorite 
George.  Dukes  could  never  want  wives,  but  unportioned 
captains  in  the  guai-ds  might. 

"  George  is  one  of  the  best  tempers  in  the  world,'* 
Slid  his  father,  with. strong  feeling,  "and  the  delight  of 
us  all.  I  could  wish  he  had  been  the  heir  to  the  family 
honors." 

"  That,  it  is  certainly  too  lale  to  help,"  cried  the-adniiral, 
wondering  if  the  ingenuity  of  his  friend  could  devise  a  remedy 
for  this  evil  too. 

"  Too  late,  indeed,"  said  the  other,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  "  but 


rnT.c.\nws.  423 

Howell,  what  say  you  to  matching  Isabel  with  my  favorite 
George?" 

"Denbigh,"  cried  the  sailor,  eyeing  him  keenly,  "Isabel  is 
my  only  child,  and  a  duCiful,  good  girl  ;  one  that  will  obey 
orders  if  ^he  breaks  owners,  as  we  sailors  say.  Now  I  did 
think  of  marrying  her  to  a  seaman,  when  a  proper  man  came 
athwart  my  course;  yet  your  son  is  a  soldier,  and  that  is 
next  to  being  in  the  navy:  if-so-be  you  had  made  him  come 
aboard  me,  when  I  wanted  you  to,  there  would  have  been  no 
objection  at  all  ;  however,  when  occasion  offers,  I  will  over- 
haul the  lad,  and  if  I  find  him  staunch  he  may  turn  in  with 
Bell  and  welcome." 

This  was  uttered  in  perfect  simplicity,  and  with  no  inten- 
Mon  of  giving  offence,  partaking  partly  of  the  nature  of  a  soli- 
loquy ;  so  the  general,  greatly  encouraged,  was  about  to 
push  the  point,  when  a  gun  was  fired  from  their  own  ship. 

""There's  some  of  them  lubberly  transports  won't  mind  our 
signals;  they  have  had  these  soldiers  so  long  on  board,  they 
get  as  clumsy  as  the  red-coats  themselves,"  muttered  tlu 
admiral,  hastening  on  deck  to  enforce  his  commands. 

A  shot  or  two,  sent  significantly  in  the  direction  of  the 
wanderers,  but  so  as  not  to  hit  them,  restored  order ;  and 
within  an  hour  forty  line  of  battle  ships  and  a  hundred 
transports  were  disposed  in  the  best  manner  for  convenience 
and  safety, 

,  On  their  presentation  to  theiu  sovereign,  both  veterans  were 
embellished  with  the  riband  of  the  Bath  ;  and  as  their  exploits 
filled  the  mouths  of  the  newsmongers,  and  the  columns  of  the 
public  prints  of  the  day,  the  new  knights  began  to  think 
more  seriously  of  building  a  monument  to  their  victories,  in  a 
union  between  their  childie'  .  The  admiral,  however,  de- 
termined to  do  uothing  with  Lis  eyes^shut,  and  bo  demanded 
a  scrutiny. 


424  PUECAUTION. 

"  Where  is  the  boy  who  is  to  be  a  diike  ?*'  exclaimed  he, 
one  day,  when  his  friend  had  introduced  the  point  with  a 
view  ^o  a  final  arrangement.  "  Bell  has  good  blood  in  her 
veins — is  a  tight  built  little  vessel — clean  heel'd  and  trim, 
and  would  make  as  good  a  duchess  as  the  best  of  them ;  so, 
Denbigh,  I  will  begin  by  taking  a  survey  of  the  senior." 

To  this  the  general  had  no  objection,  as  he  well  knew  that 
Francis  would  be  wide  of  pleasing  the  tastes  of  an  open- 
hearted,  simple  man,  like  the  sailor.  They  met,  accordingly, 
for  what  the  general  facetiously  called  the  review,  and  what 
the  admiral  innocently  termed  his  survey,  at  the  house  of  tue 
former,  when  the  young  gentlemen  were  submitted  to  his 
inspection. 

Francis  Denbigh  was  about  four  and  twenty,  of  a  feeble 
body,  and  with  a  face  marked  with  the  small-pox,  to  ap- 
proaching deformity;  his  eye  was  brilliant  and  piercing,  but 
unsettled,  and  at  times  wild — his  manner  awkward,  .con- 
strained, and  timid.  There  would  be  seen,  it  is  true,  an  intelli- 
gence and  animation,  which  occasionally  lighted  his  counte- 
nance into  gleams  of  sunsliine,  that  caused  you  to  overlook 
the  lesser  accompaniments  of  complexion  and  features  in  the 
expression  ;  but  they  were  transient,  and  inevitably  vanished 
whenever  his  father  spoke  or  in  any  manner  mingled  in  his 
pursuits. 

An  observer  close  as  Mrs.  "Wilson,  would  have  said  that 
the  feelinjrs  of  the  father  and  son  were  not  such  as  ouo-ht  t( 
exist  between  parent  and  child. 

But  the  admiral,  who  regarded  model  and  rigging  a  goo« 
deal,  satisfied  himself  with  muttering,  as  he  tui-ned  his  eye 
on  the  junior — 

"  He  may  do  for  a  duke — but  I  would  not  have  him  for  a 
cockswain." 

Geoige  was  a  year  younger  than  Francis  ;  in  foim,  stature, 


PRECAUTION.  .  42ii 

and  personal  grace,  the  counterpart  of  his  father ;  his  eye 
was  less  keen  but  more  atti-active  than  that  of  his  brother ; 
his  air  open,  polished,  and  manly. 

"  Ah !"  thought  the  sailor,  as  he  ended  a  satisfactory  sur- 
vey of  the  youth,  '•  what  a  thousand  pities  Denbigh  did  not 
send  him  to  sea  !" 

The  thing  was  soon  settled,  and  George  was  to  be  the 
Lappy  man.  Sir  Peter  concluded  to  dine  with  his  friend,  in 
order  to  settle  prehminaries  over  the  bottle  by  themselves ; 
the  young  men  and  their  mother  being  engaged  to  their  uncle 
the  duke.. 

"  Well,  Denbigh,"  cried  the  admiral,  as  the  last  servant 
withdrew,  "  when  do  you  mean  to  have  the  young  couple 
spliced  ?" 

"Why,"  replied  the  wary  soldier,  who  knew  he  could  not 
calculate  on  obedience  to  his  mandate  with  as  great  a  cer- 
tainty as  his  friend — "  the  better  way  is  to  bring  the  young 
people  together,  in  order  that  they  may  become  acquainted, 
you  know." 

*'  Acquainted — together — "  cried  his  companion,  in  a  little 
surprise,  "  what  better  way  is  there  to  bring  them  together, 
than  to  have  them  up  before  a  priest,  or  to  make  them 
acquainted  by  letting  them  swing  in  the  same  hammock  ?" 

"  It  might  answer  the  end,  indeed,"  said  the  general,  with 
a  smile,  *'  but  somehow  or  other,  it  is  always  the  best  method 
to  bring  young  folks  together,  to  let  them  have  their  own  way 
in  the  affair  for  a  time." 

"  Own  way  1"  rejoined  Sir  Peter,  bluntly,  "  did  you  ever 
find  it  answer  to  let  a  woman  have  her  own  way,  Sir  Fre- 
ierick  ?" 

*'  Not  common  women  certainly,  my  good  friend,"  said  the 
general,  "  but  such  a  girl  as  mv  intended  daughter  is  an 
exception.'' 


426  •  PRECAUTION. 

"  I  don't  know  hat,"  cried  the  sailor ;  "  Bell  is  a  good  girl, 
but  she  has  her  quirks  and  whims  Uke  all  the  sex." 

"  You  have  had  no  trouble  with  Ker  as  yet,  I  believe, 
Howell,"  said  Sir  Frederick  cavalierly,  throwing  an  inquiring 
glance  on  his  friend  at  the  same  time. 

"  No,  not  yet — nor  do  I  think  she  will  ever  dare  to 
mutiny  ;  but  there  has  been  one  wishing  to  take  her  in  tow 
already  since  we  got  in." 

"  How  !"  said  the  other  in  "alarm,  "  who — what  is  he  ? 
some  officer  in  the  navy,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  he  was  a  kind  of  chaplain,  one  Parson  Ives,  a  good 
sort  of  a  youth  enough,  and  a  prodigious  favorite  with  my 
sister,  Lady  Hawker." 

"  Well,  what  did  you  answer,  Peter  ?"  said  his  companion 
in  increasing  uneasiness  ;  "  did  you  put  him  off?" 

"  Off !  to  be  sure  I  did — do  you  think  I  wanted  a  bar- 
ber's clerk  for  a  son-in-law  ?  No,  no,  Denbigh  ;  a  soldier  is 
bad  enough,  without  having  a  preacher." 

The  general' compressed  his  lips  at  this  direct  attack  on 
a  profession  that  he  thought  the  most  honorable  of  any  in 
the  world,  in  some  resentment ;  but  remembering  the  eighty 
thousand  pounds,  and  accustomed  to  the  ways  of  the  other, 
he  curbed  his  temper,  and  inquired — 

"  But  Miss  Howell — your  daughter — how  did  she  stand 
affected  to  this  priest  ?" 

"  How — why — how  ? — why  I  never  asked  her." 

"  Never  asked  her  1" 

*•  No,  never  asked  her  :  she  is  my  daughter,  you  know, 
and  bound  to  obey  my  orders,  and  I  did  not  choose  she 
should  marry  a  parson ;  but,  once  for  all,  when  is  the  wed- 
ding to  take  place  ?" 

General  Denbigh  had  indulged  his  younger  son  too 
blindly  and  too  fondly  to  expect  that  implicit  obedience  the 


PRECAUTION.  427 

admiral  calculated  to  a  certainty  on,  and  with  every  pros* 
pect  of  not  being  disappointed,  from  his  daughter.  Isabel 
Howell  was  pretty,  mild,  and  timid,  and  unused  to  oppose 
any  of  her  father's  commands  ;  but  George  Denbigh  was 
haughty,  positive,  and  self-willed,  and  unless  the  affair  could 
be  so  managfed  as  to  make  him  a  willinof  assistant  in  the 
courtship,  his  father  knew  it  might  be  abandoned  at  Oiice 
He  thought  his  son  might  be  led,  but  not  driven  ;  and,  rely- 
ing  on  his  own  powers  for  managing,  the  general  saw  his 
only  safety  in  executing  the  scheme  was  in  postponing  his 
advances  for  a  regular  siege  to  the  lady's  heart. 

Sir  Peter  chafed  and  swore  at  this  circumlocution :  the 
thing  could  be  done  as  well  in  a  week  as  in  a  year;  and  the 
veterans,  who,  for  a  miracle,  had  agreed  in  their  rival  sta- 
tions, and  in  doubtful  moments  of  success,  were  near  splitting 
on  the  point  of  marrying  a  girl  of  nineteen. 

As  Sir  Peter  both  loved  his  friend,  and  had  taken  a  pro- 
digious fancy  to  the  youth,  he  however  was  fain  to  submit 
to  a  short  probation. 

"  You  are  always  for  going  a  round-about  way  to  do  a 
thing,"  said  the  admiral,  as  he  yielded  the  point.  "  Now, 
when  you  took  that  battery,  had  you  gone  up  in  front,  as  I 
advised  you,  you  "would  have  taken  it  in  ten  minutes,  instead 
of  five  hours." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  with  a  friendly  shake  of  the  hand 
at  parting,  "  and  lost  fifty  men  in  place  of  one  by  the  step." 


428  PRECAUTIOir. 


CHAPTER  XLH. 

The  Honorable  General  Denbigh  was  the  youngest  of 
three  sons.  His  seniors,  Francis  and  Georgu,  were  yet 
bachelors.  The  death  of  a  cousin  had  nKide  Francis  a  duke 
while  yet  a  child,  and  both  he  and  hk  /kvorite  brother, 
George,  had  decided  on  lives  of  inactivity  and  sluggishness. 

"  When  I  die,  brother,"  the  oldest  would  say,  "  you  will 
succeed  me,  and  Frederick  can  provide  heirs  for  the  nam  a 
hereafter." 

This  arrangement  had  been  closely  adhered  to,  and  the 
two  elder  brothers  reached  the  ages  of  fifty-five  and  fifty-six, 
without  altering  their  condition.  In  the  mean  time,  Frederick 
married  a  young,  woman  of  rank  and  fortune;  the  fruits  of 
their  union  being  the  two  ycung  candidates  for  the  hand  of 
Isabel  Howell. 

Francis  Denbigh,  the  eldest  son  of  the  genei'al,  was  natu- 
rally diffident,  and,  in  addition,  it  was  his.  misfortune  to  be 
the  reverse  of  captivating  in  external  appearance.  The  small- 
pox sealed  his  doom  ; — ignorance,  and  the  violence  of  the 
attack,  left  him  indelibly  impressed  with  the  ravages  of  that 
dreadful  disorder.  On  the  other  hand,  his  brother  escaped 
without  any  vestiges  of  the  complaint;  and  his  spotless  skin 
and  fine  open  countenance,  met  the  gaze  of  his  mother,  aftci 
the  recovery  of  the  two,  in  striking  contrast  to  the  defoi-med 
lineaments  of  his  elder  brother.  Such  an  occurrence  is  sure 
to  excite  one  of  two  feelings  in  the  breast  of  every  beholder 
— pity  or  disgust ;  and,  unhappily  for  Francis,  maternal 
tenderness,  in  his  case,  was  unable  to  counteract  the  latter 


rvccAUTioN.  429 

sfc.    jiioD.     George  become  a  favorite,  and  Francis  a  neutral 
Tilt.  iS'b  1  was  easy  to  be  seen,  and  it  was  rapid,  as  it  was 

The  fo^Sjj^'i,  G-  Frnnois  were  sensitive  to  an  extreme.  He 
hac'  more  quiciue»s,  more  sensibility,  more  real  talent' than 
George  ;  whi^h  ctiabled  hi  in  to  perceive,  and  caused  him  to 
'feel  more  acutely,  tht  partiality  of  his  mother. 

As  yet,  the  engag-^ments  and  duties  of  the  general  had 
kept  his  children  and  their  improvements  out  of  his  sight ; 
but  at  the  ages  of  eleven  and  twelve,  the  feelings  of  a  father, 
began  to  take  pride  in  the  possession  of  his  sons. 

On  his  return  from  a  foreign  station,  after  an  absence  of 
two  years,  his  children  were  ordered  from  school  to  meet 
him.  Francis  had  improved  in  stature,  but  not  in  beauty ; 
George  had  flourished  in  both. 

The  natural  diffidence  of  the  former  was  increased,  by 
perceiving  that  he  was  no  favorite,  and  the  effect  began  to 
show  itself  on  manners  at  no  time  engaging.  He  met  his 
father  with  doubt,  and  he  saw  with  asguish,  that  the  embrace 
received  by  his  brother  much  exceeded  in  warmth  that 
which  liad  been  bestowed  on  himself 

"  Lady  Margaret,"  said  the  general  to  his  wife,  as  he  fol- 
lowed the  boys  as  they  retired  from  the  dinner  table,  with 
his  eyes,  "  it  is  a  thousand  pities  George  had  not  been  the 
elder.  He  would  have  graced  a  dukedom  or  a  throne. 
Frank  is  only  fit  for  a  parson." 

This  ill-judged  speech  was  uttered  sufficiently  loud  to  be 
overheard  by  both  the  sons:  on  the  younger,  it  made  a 
pleasurable  sensation  for  the  moment.  His  father — his  dear 
father,  had  thought  him  fit  to  be  a  king ;  and  his  father  must 
be  a  judge,  whispered  his  native  vanity ;  but  all  this  time 
the  connexion  between  the  speech  and  his  brother*s  rights 
did  not  present  themselves  to  his  mind.     George  loved  this 


4»0  PRECAUTION. 

brother  too  well,  too  sincerely,  to  liave  injured  him  even  in 
thought ;  and  so  far  as  Francis  was  concerned,  his  vanity 
was  as  blameless  as  it  was  natural. 

The  effect  produced  on  the  mind  of  Francis  was  diflferen 
both  in  substance  and  in  degree.  It  mortified  his  pride 
alarmed  his  delicacy,  and  wounded  his  already  morbid 
ensibility  to  such  an  extent,  as  to  make  him  entertain  the 
romantic  notion  of  withdrawing  from  the  world,  and  of 
yielding  a  birthright  to  one  so  every  way  more  deserving  of 
it  than  himself. 

From  this  period  might  be  dated  an  opinion  of  Francis's, 
which  never  afterwards  left  him  ;  he  fancied  he  was  doing 
injustice  to  another,  and  that  other,  a  brother  whom  he 
ardently  loved,  by  continuing  to  exist.  Had  he  met  with 
fondness  in  his  parents,  or  sociability  in  his  playfellows,  these 
fancies  would  have  left  him  as  he  grew  into  life.  But  the 
affections  of  his  parents  were  settled  on  his  more  promising 
brother ;  and  his  manners  daily  increasing  in  their  repulsive 
traits,  drove  his  companions  to  the  society  of  others,  more 
agreeable  to  their  own  buoyancy  and  joy. 

Had  Francis  Denbigh,  at  this  age,  met  with  a  guardian 
clear-sighted  enough  to  fathom  his  real  character,  and  com- 
petent to  direct  his  onward  course,  he  would  yet  have  become 
an  ornament  to  his  name  and  country,  and  a  useful  membei 
of  society.  But  no  such  guide  existed.  His  natural  guardi 
ans,  in  his  particular  case,  were  his  worst  enemies ;  and  th*» 
L»oys  left  school  for  college  four  years  afterwards,  each  advanc' 
ed  in  his  respective  properties  of  attraction  and  repulsion. 

Irreligion  is  hardly  a  worse  evil  ij  a  family  than  favorit- 
ism. When  once  allowed  to  exist,  in  the  breast  of  the 
parent,  though  hid  apparently  from  all  other  eyes,  its  sad 
consequences  begin  to  show  themselves.  Effects  are  pro- 
duced, and  we  look  in  vain  for  the  cause.     The  awakened 


PRECAUTION.  431 

sympatliies  of  reciprocal  caresses  and  fondness  are  mistaken 
for  uncommoD  feelings,  and  the  forbidding  aspect  of  deadened 
affections  is  miscalled  native  sensibility. 
'  In  this  manner  the  evil  increases  itself,  until  manners  are 
formed,  and  characters  created,  that  must  descend  with  their 
possessor  to  the  tomb. 

In  the  peculiar  formation  of  the  mind  of  Francis  Denbigh, 
t  le  evil  was  doubly  injurious.  His  feelings  required  sympa- 
thy and  softness,  and  they  met  only  with  coldness  and  dis- 
gust. George  alone  was  an  exception  to  the  rule.  He  did 
love  his  brother;  but  even  his  gaiety  and  spirits  finally 
tired  of  the  dull  uniformity  of  the  diseased  habits  of  his 
senior. 

The  only  refuge  Francis  found  in  his  solitude,  amidst  the 
hundreds  of  the  university,  was  in  his  muse  and  in  the 
powers  of  melody.  The  voice  of  his  family  has  been  fre- 
quently mentioned  in  these  pages ;  and  if,  as  Lady  Laura 
had  intimated,  there  had  ever  been  a  siren  in  the  race,  it  was 
a  male  one.  He  wrote  prettily,  and  would  sing  these  efforts 
of  his  muse  to  music  of  his  own,  drawing  crowds  around  his 
windows,  in  the  stillness  of  the  night,  to  listen  to  sounds  as 
melodious  as  they  were  mournful.  His  poetical  efforts  par- 
took of  the  distinctive  character  of  the  man,  being  melan- 
choly, wild,  and  sometimes  pious. 

George  was  always  amongst  the  most  admiring  of  his 
brother's  auditors,  and  would  feel  a  yearning  of  his  heart 
/owards  him,  at  such  moments,  that  was  painful.  But 
George  was  too  young  and  too  heedless,  to  supply  the  place  of 
a  monitor,  or  to  draw  his  thoughts  into  a  more  salutary  train. 
Tliis  was  the  duty  of  his  parents,  and  should  have  been  their 
task.  But  the  world,  his  rising  lionors,  and  his  professional 
engagements,  occupied  the  time  of  the  father;  and  fashion, 
parties,  and  pleasure,  killed  the  time  of  his  mother.     When 


432  PRECAUTION. 

fiiey  did  think  of  their  children,  it  was  of  George;  the 
painful  image  of  Francis  being  seldom  admitted  to  disturb 
their  serenity. 

George  Denbigh  was  open-hearted  without  suspicion,  and 
a  favorite.  The  first  quality  taxed  his  generosity,  the 
second  subjected  him  to  fraud,  and  the  third  supplied  him 
with  the  means.  But  these  means  sometimes  faited.  Th 
fortune  of  the  general,  though  handsome,  was  not  more  than 
competent  to  support  his  style  of  living.  He  expected  to  be 
a  duke  himself  one  day,  and  was  anxious  to  maintain  an 
appearance  now  that  would  not  disgrace  his  future  elevation. 
A  system  of  strict  but  liberal  economy  had  been  adopted  in 
the  case  of  his  sons.  They  had,  for  the  sake  of  appearances, 
a  stated  and  equal  allowance. 

The  duke  had  ofiered  to  educate  the  heir  himself,  and 
under  his  own  eye.  But  to  this  Lady  Margaret  had  found 
some  ingenious  excuse,  and  one  that  seemed  to  herself  and 
the  world  honorable  to  her  natural  feeling;  but  had  the 
offer  been  made  to  George,  these  reasons  would  have  vanished 
in  the  desire  to  advance  his  interests,  or  to  gratify  his  pro- 
pensities. Such  decisions  are  by  no  means  uncommon ; 
parents  having  once  decided  on  the  merits  and  abilities  of 
their  children,  frequently  decline  the  interference  of  third 
persons,  since  the  impi-ovement  of  their  denounced  offspring 
might  bring  their  own  judgment  into  question,  if  it  did  not 
convey  an  indirect  censure  on  their  justice. 

The  heedlessness  of  George  brought  his  purse  to  a  state 
of  emptiness.  His  last  guinea  was  gone,  and  two  months 
were  wanting  to  the  end  of  the  quarter.  George  had  played 
and  been  cheated.  He  had  ventured  to  apply  to  his  mother 
for  small  sums,  when  his  dress  or  some  trifling  indulgence 
required  an  advance ;  and  always  with  success.  But  here 
were  sixty  guinea?,  gone  at  a  blow,  and  pride,  candor,  fo^- 


PRECArrioN.  433 

bade  his  concealing  the  manner  of  his  loss,  if  he  made  th« 
application.  This  was  dreadful ;  his  own  conscience  re- 
proached him,  and  he  had  so  often  witnessed  the  violence  of 
his  mother's  resentments  against  Francis,  for  faults  which 
appeared  to  him  very  trivial,  not  to  stand  in  the  utmost  dread 
of  her  more  just  displeasure  in  the  present  case. 

Entering  the  apartment  of  his  brother,  in  this  disturbed 
condition,  George  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and  with  his 
face  concealed  between  his  hands,  sat  brooding  over  his  for 
lorn  situation. 

"  George  !"  said  his  brother,  soothingly,  "  you  are  in  dis- 
tress ;  can  I  relieve  you  in  any  way  ?" 

"  Oh  no — no — no — Frank  ;  it  is  entirely  out  of  your 
power." 

"Perhaps  not,  my  dear  brother,"  continued  the  other, 
endeavoring  to  draw  his  hand  into  his  own. 

"  Entirely  !  entirely  !''  said  George.  Then  springing  up  in 
despair,  he  exclaimed,  "  But  I  must  live — I  cannot  die." 

"  Live  1  die  !"  cried  Francis,  recoiling  in  horror.  "  What 
do  you  mean  by  such  language  ?  Tell  me,  George,  am  I  not 
your  brother  ?    Your  only  brother  and  best  friend  ?" 

Francis  felt  he  had  no  friend  if  George  was  not  that  friend, 
and  his  face  grew  pale  while  the  tears  flowed  rapidly  down  his 
cheeks. 

George  could  not  resist  such  an  appeal.  He  caught  the 
hand  of  his  brother  and  made  him  acquainted  with  his  losses 
and  his  wants. 

Fj-ancis  mused  some  little  time  over  his  narration,  ere  he 
broke  silence. 

"  It  was  all  you  had  V 

"  The  last  shilling,"  cried  George,  beating  his  head  with 
his  hand. 

**  How  much  will  you  require  to  make  out  the  quarter  V* 
19 


434  PRECAUTION. 

**  Oh  1  must  have  at  least  fifty  guineas,  or  how  can  I  live 
at  all  ?" 

The  ideas  of  life  in  George  were  connected  a  good  deal 
with  the  manner  it  was  to  be  enjoyed.  His  brother  appeared 
sti-uggling  with  himself,  and  then  turning  to  the  other,  con- 
tinued, 

"  But  surely,  under  present  circumstances,  you  could  make 
less  do." 

"Less,  never — hardly  that" — interrupted  George,  vehe- 
mently. "  If  Lady  Margaret  did  not  inclose  me  a  note  now 
and  then,  how  could  we  get  along  at  all  ?  don't  you  find  it 
so  yourself,  brother  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Francis,  turning  pale — 

*'  Don't  know !"  cried  George,  catching  a  view  of  his 
altered  countenance — "  you  get  the  money,  though  ?" 

"  I  do  not  remember  it,"  said  the  other,  sighing  heavily. 

"Francis,"  cried  George,  comprehending  the  truth,  "you 
shall  share  every  shilling  I  receive  in  future — you  shall — 
indeed  you  shall." 

"  Well,  then,"  rejoined  Francis  with  a  smile,  "  it  is  a  bar- 
gain ;  and  you  will  receive  from  me  a  supply  in  your  present 
necessities." 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  Francis  withdrew  into  an 
inner  apartment,  and  brought  out  the  required  sum  for  his 
brother's  subsistence  for  two  months.  George  remonstrated, 
but  Francis  was  positive ;  he  had  been  saving,  and  his  stock 
was  ample  for  his  simple  habits  without  it. 

*'  Besides,  you  forget  we  are  partners,  and  in  the  end  I 
shall  be  a  gainer." 

George  yielded  to  his  wants  and  his  brother's  entreaties, 
and  he  gave  him  great  credit  for  the  disinterestedness  of  the 
act.  Several  weeks  passed  without  any  further  allusion  to 
this  disagreeable  subject,  which  bad  at  least  the  favorable 


PRECAUTION.  435 

result  of  making  George  more  guarded  and  a  better 
student. 

The  brothers,  from  this  period,  advanced  gradually  in 
those  distinctive  qualities  which  were  to  mark  the  future 
men  ;  George  daily  improving  in  grace  and  attraction.  Frarj- 
cis,  m  an  equal  ratio,  receding  from  those  very  attainments, 
which  it  was  his  too  great  desire  to  possess.  In  the  educa- 
tion of  his  sons,  General  Denbigh  had  preserved  the  appear- 
ance of  impartiality;  his  allowance  to  each  was  the  same: 
they  were  at  the  same  college,  they  had  been  at  the  sam*^ 
school ;  and  if  Frank  did  not  improve  as  much  as  his  younge** 
brother,  it  was  unquestionably  his  own  obstinacy  and  stupi* 
dity,  and  surely  not  want  of  opportunity  or  favor. 

Such,  then,  were  the  artificial  and  accidental  causes,  wbic^a 
kept  a  noble,  a  proud,  an  acute  but  a  diseased  mind,  in 
acquirements  much  'below  another  every  way  its  inferior, 
excepting  in  the  happy  circumstance  of  wanting  those  very 
excellences,  the  excess  and  indiscreet  management  of  which 
proved  the  ruin  instead  of  the  blessing  of  their  possessor. 

The  duke  would  occasionally  rouse  himself  from  his 
lethargy,  and  complain  to  the  father,  that  the  heir  of  his 
honors  was  far  inferior  to  his  younger  brother  in  acquire- 
ments, and  remonstrate  against  the  course  which  produced 
such  an  unfortunate  inequality.  On  these  occasions  a  super- 
ficial statement  of  his  system  from  the  general  met  the  objec- 
tion ;  they  cost  the  same  money,  and  he  was  sure  he  not  only 
wished  but  did  everything  an  indulgent  parent  could,  to 
render  Francis  worthy  of  his  future  honors.  Another  evil  of 
the  admission  of  feelings  of  partiality,  in  the  favor  of  one 
child,  to  the  prejudice  of  another,  is  that  the  malady  is  con- 
tagious as  well  as  lasting :  it  exists  without  our  own  know- 
ledge, and  it  seldom  fails  to  affect  those  around  us.  The 
uncle  soon  learnt  to  distinguish  George  as  the  hope  of  the 


436 


PRECAUTION. 


family,  yet  Francis  must  be  the  heir  of  its  honors,  and  con- 
sequently of  its  wealth. 

The  duke  and  his  brother  were  not  much  addicted  to 
action,  hardly  to  reflection ;  but  if  anything  could  rouse  them 
to  either,  it  was  the  reputation  of  the  house  of  Denbigh. 
Their  ideas  of  reputation,  it  is  true,  were  of  their  own  forming. 

The  hour  at  length  drew  near  when  George  expected  a 
suppl}?-  from  the  ill-judged  generosity  of  his  mother ;  it  came, 
and  with  a  heart  beating  with  pleasure,  the  youth  flew  to  the 
room  of  Francis  with  a  determination  to  force  the  whole  of 
his  twenty  pounds  on  his  acceptance.  On  throwing  open  his 
door,  he  saw  his  brother  evidently  striving  to  conceal  some- 
thing behind  his  books.  It  was  at  the  hour  of  breakfast, 
and  George  had  intended  for  a  novelty  to  share  his  brother's 
morning  repast.  They  always  met  at  dinner,  but  the  other 
meals  were  made  in  their  own  rooms."  George  looked  in 
vain  for  the  usual  equipage  of  the  table ;  suspicion  flashed 
upon  him  j  he  threw  aside  the  books,  and  a  crust  of  bread 
and  a  glass  of  water  met  his  eye  ;  the  truth  now  flashed 
upon  him  in  all  its  force. 

"Francis,  my  brother,  to  what  has  my  extravagance 
reduced  you !"  exclaimed  the  contrite  George  with  a  heart 
nearly  ready  to  burst.  Francis  endeavored  to  explain,  but  i» 
sacred  regard  to  the  truth  held  him  tongue-tied,  until  drop- 
ping his  head  on  the  shoulder  of  George,  he  sobbed  out — 

"  it  is  a  trifle ;  nothing  to  what  I  would  do  for  you,  my 
brother." 

George  felt  all  the  horrors  of  remoise,  and  was  much  too 
generous  to  conceal  his  en-or  any  longer ;  he  wrote  a  circum- 
stantial account  of  the  whole  transaction  to  Lady  Margaret. 

Francis  for  a  few  days  was  a  new  being.  He  had  acted 
nobly,  his  conscience  approved  of  his  motives,  and  of  his 
delicate  concealment  of  them  ;  he  in  fact  began  to  think  there 


PRECAUTION.  437 

were  in  himself  the  seeds  of  usefulness,  as  his  brother,  who 
from  this  moment  began  to  understand  his  character  better 
attached  himself  more  closely  to  him. 

The  eye  of  Francis  met  that  of  George  with  the  look  of 
acknowledged  affection,  his  mind  became  less  moody,  and  his 
face  was  sometimes  embellished  with  a  smile. 

The  reply  of  their  mother  to  the  communication  of  George 
threw  a  damp  on  the  revived  hoj)es  of  the  senior,  and  drove 
him  back  into  himself  with  tenfold  humility. 

"  I  am  shocked,  my  child,  to  find  that  you  have  lowered 
yourself,  and  forgot  the  family  you  belong  to,  so  much  as  to 
frequent  those  gambling-houses,  which  ought  not  to  be  suf- 
fered in  the  neighborhood  of  the  universities  :  when  at  a 
proper  age  and  in  proper  company,  your  occasional  indul- 
gence at  cards  I  could  not  object  to,  as  both  your  father  and 
myself  sometimes  resort  to  it  as  an  amusement,  but  never  in 
low  company.  The  consequence  of  mingling  in  such  society 
is,  that  you  were  cheated,  and  such  will  always  be  your  lot 
unless  you  confine  yourself  to  associates  more  becoming  your 
rank  and  illustrious  name. 

"  As  to  Francis,  I  see  every  reason  to  condemn  the  course 
he  has  taken.  Being  the  senior  by  a  year,  he  should  have 
taken  the  means  to  prevent  your  falling  into  such  company ; 
and  he  should  have  acquainted  me  immediately  with  your 
loss,  in  place  of  wounding  your  pride  by  subjecting  you  to 
the  mortification  of  receiving  a  pecuniary  obligation  from  one 
so  little  older  than  yourself,  and  exposing  his  own  health  by 
a  diet  on  bread  and  water,  as  you  wrote  me,  for  a  whole 
month.  Both  the  general  and  myself  are  seriously  displeased 
with  him,  and  think  of  separating  you,  as  you  thus  connive 
at  each  other's  follies." 

George  was  too  indignant  to  conceal  this  letter  and  the 
reflections  of  Francis  were  dreadful. 


438  PRECAUTION. 

For  a  short  time  he  actually  meditated  suicide,  as  the  only 
method  of  removing  himself  from  before  the  advancement  of 
George.  Had  not  George  been  more  attentive  and  affec- 
tionate than  formerly,  the  awful  expedient  might  have  been 
resorted  to. 

From  college  the  young  men  went,  one  into  the  army  and 
the  other  to  the  mansion  of  his  uncle.  George  became  an 
elegant,  gay,  open-hearted,  admired  captain  in  the  guards ; 
and  Francis  stalked  through  the  halls  of  his  ancestors,  their 
acknowledged  future  lord,  but  a  misanthrope ;  hateful  to 
himself  and  disagreeable  to  all  around  him. 

This  picture  may  be  highly  wrought,  but  the  effects,  in 
the  case  of  Francis,  were  increased  by  the  peculiar  tone  of 
his  diseased  state  of  mind.  The  indulgence  of  favoritism, 
nevertheless,  always  brings  its  own  sad  consequences,  in  a 
greater  or  less  degree,  while  it  seldom  fails  to  give  sorrow 
and  penitence  to  the  bosom  of  the  parents. 


PRECAUTION.  43  J 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

No  little  art  and  management  had  been  necessary  to  make 
the  admiral  auxiliary  to  the  indirect  plan  proposed  by  his 
friend  to  bring  George  and  Isabel  together.  This,  however, 
effected,  the  general  turned  his  whole  strategy  to  the  impres- 
sion to  be  made  on  the  heart  of  the  young  gentleman. 

Sir  Frederick  Denbigh  had  the  same  idea  of  the  virtue 
of  management  as  the  Dowager  Lady  Chatterton,  but  he 
undeistood  human  nature  better. 

Like  a  prudent  officer,  his  attacks  were  all  masked,  and, 
like  a  great  officer,  they  seldom  failed  of  success. 

The  young  couple  were  thrown  in  each  other's  way,  ana 
as  Isabel  was  extremely  attractive,  somewhat  the  opposite 
to  himself  in  ardor  of  temperament  and  vivacity,  modest,  and 
sensible,  it  cannot  be  expected  that  the  association  was 
maintained  by  the  youth  with  perfect  impunity.  Within  a 
couple  of  months  he  fancied  himself  desperately  in  love  with 
Isabel  Howell ;  and,  in  truth,  he  had  some  reason  for  the 
Bupposition. 

The  general  watched  every  movement  of  his  son  with  a 
waiy  and  vigilant  eye — occasionally  adding  fuel  to  the 
flame,  by  drawing  his  attention  to  projects  of  matrimony  in 
other  quarters,  until  George  began  to  think  he  was  soon  to 
undergo  a  trial  of  his  constancy,  and  in  consequence  he 
armed  himself  with  a  double  portion  of  admiration  for  his 
Isabel,  in  order  to  enable  himself  to  endure  the  pei-secution  ; 
while  the  admiral  several  times  endangered  the  success  of 
the  whole  enterj)rise  by  Aoluntet^v  contributions  to  the  hopes 


440  PRECAUTION. 

of  the  young  man,  which  only  escaped  producing  an  oppo- 
site effect  to  that  which  w^as  intended,  by  being  mistaken  for 
the  overflowings  of  good  nature  and  friendship. 

After  suffering  his  son  to  get,  as  he  thought,  sufficiently 
entangled  in  the  snares  of  Cupid,  Sir  Frederick  determined 
to  fire  a  volley  from  one  of  his  masked  batteries,  which  he 
rightly  judged  would  bring  on  a  general  engagement.  They 
were  sitting  at  the  table  after  dinner,  alone,  when  the  general 
took  the  advantage  of  the  name  of  Miss  Howell  being  acci- 
dentally mentioned,  to  say — 

"  By  the  by,  George,  my  friend  the  admiral  said  some- 
thing yesterday  on  the  subject  of  your  being  so  much  with 
his  daughter.  I  wish  you  to  be  cautious,  and  not  to  give 
the  old  sailor  offence  in  any  way,  for  he  is  my  particular 
friend." 

"  He  need  be  under  no  violent  apprehensions,"  cried 
George,  coloring  highly  with  shame  and  pride,  "  I  am  sure 
a  Denbigh  is  no  unworthy  match  for  a  daughter  of  Sir  Peter 
Howell." 

**  Oh !  to  be  sure  not,  boy,  we  are  as  old  a  house  as 
there  is  in  the  kingdon,  and  as  noble  too ;  but  the  admiral 
has  queer  notions,  and,  perhaps,  he  has  some  cub  of  a  sailor 
in  his  eye  for  a  son-in-law.  Be  prudent,  my  boy,  be  pru- 
dent ;  that  is  all  I  ask  of  you." 

The  general,  satisfied  with  the  effect  he  had  produced, 
carelessly  arose  from  his  seat,  and  joined  Lady  Margai-et  in 
her  drawing-room. 

George  remained  for  several  minutes  musing  on  his  father's 
singular  request,  as  well  as  the  admiral's  caution,  when  he 
sprang  from  his  seat,  caught  up  his  hat  and  sword,  and  in 
ten  minutes  rang  at  Sir  Peter's  door  in  Grosvenor  Square. 
He  was  admitted,  and  ascending  to  the  drawing-room,  he 
met  the  admiral  on  his  way  out.     Nothing  was  further  horn 


PRECAUTION.  441 

the  thoughts  of  the  veteran  than  a  finess6  like  the  generars ; 
and,  delighted  to  see  George  on  the  battle-ground,  he 
pointed  significantly  over  his  shoulder  towards  the  door  of 
the  room  Isabel  was  in,  and  exclaimed,  with  a  good-natured 
smile, 

"  There  she  is,  my  hearty ;  lay  her  aside,  and  hang  me  if 
she  don't  strike.  I  say,  Geo^-ge,  faint  heart  never  won  fair 
lady  :  remember  that,  my  boy ;  no,  nor  a  French  ship." 

George  would  have  been  at  some  loss  to  have  reconciled 
this. speech  to  his  fatlier's  caution,  if  time  had  been  allowed 
him  to  think  at  all ;  but  the  door  being  open  he  entered, 
and  found  Isabel  endeavoring  to  hide  her  tears. 

The  admiral,  dissatisfied  from  the  besrinninof  with  the 
tardy  method  of  despatching  things,  thought  he  might  be 
of  use  in  breaking  the  ice  for  George,  by  trumpeting  his 
praises  on  divers  occasions  to  his  daughter.  Under  all  cir- 
cumstances, he  thought  she  might  be  learning  to  love  the 
man,  as  he  was  to  be  her  husband  ;  and  speeches  like  the 
following  had  been  frequent  of  late  from  the  parent  to  the 
child : 

"  There's  that  youngster,  George  Denbigh :  now,  Bell, 
is  he  not  a  fine  looking  lad  ?  Then  I  know  he  is  brave. 
His  father  before  him  was  good  stuff  and  a  true  Englishman, 
What  a  proper  husband  he  would  make  for  a  young  woman, 
he  loves  his  king  an,d  country  so ;  none  of  your  new-fangled 
notions  about  religion  and  government,  but  a  sober,  religious 
churchman  ;  that  is,  as  much  so,  girl,  as  you  can  expect  ii; 
the  guards.  No  Methodist,  to  be  sure ; — it's  a  great  pity  he 
wasn't  sent  to  sea,  don't  you  think  so?  But  cheer  up, 
girl,  one  of  these  days  he  may  be  taking  a  liking  to  you 
vet." 

IsabeJ,  whose  fears  taught  her  the  meaning  of  these 
eloquent  praises  of  Captain  Denbigh,  listened  to  these 
19* 


442  PRECAUTION. 

harangues  in  silence,  and  often  meditated  on  their  import  by 
herself  in  tears.   - 

George  approached  the  sofa  on  which  the  lady  was  seated 
before  she  had  time  to  conceal  the  traces  of  her  sorrow,  and 
in  a  voice  softened  by  emotion,  he  took  her  hand  gently  aa 
lie  said, — 

"  What  can  have  occasioned  this  distress  to  Miss  Howell 
If  anything  in  my  power  to  remove,  or  which  a  life  devoted 
to  her  service  can  mitigate,  she  has  only  to  command  me  to 
find  a  cheerful  obedience." 

"  The  trifling  causes  of  sorrow  in  a  young  woman,"  replied 
Isabel,  endeavoring  to  smile,  "  will  hardly  require  such 
serious  services  to  remove  them." 

But  the  lady  was  extremely  interesting  at  the  moment. 
George  was  goaded  by  his  father's  caution,  and  urged  on  by 
his  own  feelings,  with  great  sincerity,  and  certainly  much 
eloquence,  he  therefore  proffered  his  love  and  hand  to  tliP 
acceptance  of  his  mistress. 

Isabel  heard  him  in  painful  silence.  She  respected  hin  , 
and  dreaded  his  power  over  her  father ;  but,  unwilling  u) 
^baudon  hopes  to  which  she  yet  clung  as  to  her  spring  of 
«xistef»ce^  with  a  violent  effort  she  determined  to  throw  her- 
self on  the  generosity  of  her  lover. 

During  her.  father's  late  absence  Isabel  had,  as  usual, 
since  the  death  of  her  mother,  been  left  with  his  sister,  and 
]y.\d  formed  an  attachment  for  a  young  clergyman,  a  younger 
B/j^n  .of  a  baronet,  and  the  present  Dr.  Ives.  The  inclination 
had  t)ee,n  mutual ;  and  as  Lady  Hawker  knew  her  brother 
to  be  perfectly  indifferent  to  money,  she  could  see  no  possible 
objection  to  its  indulgence. 

On  his  return,  Ives  made  his  proposals,  as  related  ;  and 
although  warmly  backed  by  the  lecommendations  of  the 
aunt,  he  was  refused.     Out  of  delicacy  the  wishes  of  Isabel 


PRECAUTION.  443 

had  not  been  mentioned  hy  her  clerical  lover,  and  the 
admiral  supposed  he  had  only  comf)li£d  with  his  agreement 
with  the  general,  without  in  any  manner  affecting  the  hap- 
})iness  of  his  daughter  by  his  answer.  But  the  feelings 
which  prompted  the  request  still  remained  in  full  vigor  in 
the  lovers ;  and  Isabel  now,  with  many  blushes  and  some 
jiesitation  of  utterance,  made  George  fully  acquainted  with 
the  state  of  her  heart,  giving  him  at  the  same  time  to  under- 
stand that  he  was  the  only  obstacle  to  her  happiness. 

It  cannot  be  supposed  that  George  heard  her  without  pain 
or  mortification.  The  struggle  with  self-love  was  a  severe 
one,  but  his  better  feelings  prevailed,  and  he  assured  the 
anxious  Isabel  that  fiom  his  importunities  she  had  nothing 
to  apprehend  in  future.  The  grateful  girl  overwhelmed  him 
with  thanks,  and  George  had  to  fly  ere  he  repented  of  his 
own  generosity. 

Miss  Howell  intimated,  in  the  course  of  her  narrative,  that 
a  better  understanding  existed  between  their  parents  than 
the  caution  of  the  general  had  discovered  to  bis  unsuspect- 
ing child,  and  George  was  determined  to  know  the  worst  at 
once. 

At  supper  he  mentioned,  as  if  in  remembrance  of  his 
father's  injunction,  that  he  had  been  to  take  his  leave  of  Miss 
Howell,  since  he  found  his  visits  gave  uneasiness  to  her 
friends.  "  On  the  whole,"  he  added,  endeavoring  to  yawn 
careless' u,  "I  believe  I  shall  visit  there  no  more." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  returned  Sir  Frederick,  a  little  displeased  at 
his  son's  obedience,  "  I  meant  no  such  thing.  Neither  the 
ndmiral  nor  myself  has  the  least  objection  to  your  visiting 
in  moderation;  indeed,  you  may  marry  the  girl  with  all  our 
hearts,  if  you  can  agree." 

"  But  we  can't  agree,  I  take  it,"  said  George,  looking  up 
at  the  wall. 


444  PRECAUTION. 

**  Why  not  ?  what  hinders  1"  cried  his  father  uriguard- 
edly. 

'♦  Only — only  I  don't  like  her,"  said  the  son,  tossing  off  a 
glass  of  wine,  which  nearly  strangled  him. 

"  You  don't,"  cried  the  general  with  great  warmth,  thrown 
entirely    off    his   guard    by    this    unexpected    declaration 
"  and  may  I  presume  to  ask  the  reason  why  you  do  not  like 
Miss  Howell,  sir  ?" 

"  Oh  !  you  know,  one  never  pretends  to  give  a  reason 
for  this  sort  of  feeling,  my  dear  sir." 

"  Then,"  cried  his  father  with  increasing  heat^  "  you  must 
allow  me  to  say,  my  dear  sir,  that  the  sooner  you  get  rid  of 
these  sort  of  feelings  the  better.  I  choose  you  shall  not 
only  like,  but  love  Miss  Howell ;  and  this  I  have  promised 
her  father." 

"  I  thought  that  the  admiral  was  displeased  with  my 
coming  to  his  house  so  much — or  did  I  not  understand  you 
this  morning  ?" 

"  I  know  nothing  of  his  displeasure,  and  care  less.  He 
has  agreed  that  Isabel  shall  be  your  wife,  and  I  have  passed 
my  word  to  the  engagement ;  and  if,  sir,  you  wish  to  be 
considered  as  my  son,  you  will  prepare  to  comply." 

George  was  expecting  to  discover  some  management  on 
the  part  of  his  father,  but  by  no  means  so  settled  an  arrange- 
ment, and  his  anger  was  in  proportion  to  the  deception. 

To  annoy  Isabel  any  further  was  out  of  the  question  ;  to 
betray  her,  base ;  and  the  next  morning  he  sought  an 
audience  with  the  Duke.  To  him  he  mentioned  his  wish 
for  actual  service,  but  hinted  that  the  maternal  fondness  of 
Lady  Margaret  was  averse  to  his  seeking  it.  This  was  true, 
and  George  now  pressed  his  uncle  to  assist  him  in  effecting 
an  exchange. 

The  boroughs  of  the  Duke  of  Derwent  were  i^presented 


PRECAUTION.  445 

by  loyal  tnembers  of  parliament,  his  two  brothers  being  con- 
temporary with  Mr.  Ben  field  in  that  honor  ;  and  a  request 
from  a  man  who  sent  six  members  to  the  Commons,  besides 
having  a  seat  in  the  Lords  in  his  own  person,  must  be  lis- 
tened to. 

Within  the  week  George  ceased  to  be  a  captain  in  the 
guards,  and  became  lieutenant-colonel  of  a  regiment  under 
orders  for  America. 

Sir  Frederick  soon  became  sensible  of  the  error  his  wai-mth 
had  led  him  into,  and  endeavored,  by  soothing  and  indul- 
gence, to  gain  the  ground  he  had  so  unguardedly  lost.  But 
terrible  was  his  anger,  and  bitter  his  denunciations,  when 
his  son  acquainted  him  with  his  approaching  embarkation 
with  his  new  regiment  for  America.  They  quarrelled;  and 
ias  the  favorite  child  had  ne\er,  until  now,  been  thwarted  or 
spoken  hai-shly  to,  they  parted  in  mutual  disgust.  With  his 
mother  George  was  more  tender ;  and  as  Lady  Margaret 
never  thought  the  match  such  as  the  descendant  of  two  lines 
of  dukes  was  entitled  to  form,  she  almost  pardoned  the 
offence  in  the  cause. 

"  What's  this  here  ?"  cried  Sir  Peter  Howell,  as  he  ran 
over  a  morning  paper  at  the  breakfast  table  :  "  Captain  Den- 
bigh, late  of  the  guards,  has  been  promoted  to  the  Lieutenant- 
Colonelcy  of  the Foot^  and  sails  to-morrow  to  join  that 

regiment,  now  on  its  \Vay  to  America." 

'•  It's  a  lie,  Bell ! — it's  all  a  lie  !  not  but  what  he  ought  to 
be  there,  too,  serving  his  king  and  country  ;  but  he  nevei 
would  serve  you  so." 

"  Me  ?"  said  Isabel,  with  a  heart  throbbing  with  the  con 
tending  feelings  of  admiration  for  George's  generosity,  and 
dehght  at  her  own  deliverance.  "  What  'lave  I  to  do  with 
the  movements  of  Mr.  Denbigh  ?" 

"  What !''  cried  iier  father  in  astonishment ;  "  aVt  you  to 


446  PRECAUTION. 

be  his  wife,  a'n't  it  all  agreed  upon — that  is,  between  Sir 
Frederick  and  me,  which  is  the  same  thing,  you  know — " 

Here  he  was  interrupted  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  the 
general  himself,  who  had  just  learLC  the  departure  of  his  son, 
and  hastened,  with  the  double  purpose  of  breaking  the  intel- 
ligence to  his  friend,  and  of  making  his  own  peace. 

"  See  here,  Denbigh,"  exclaimed  the  admiral,  pointing  to 
the  paragraph,  "  what  do  you  say  to  that  ?" 

"  Too  true — too  true,  my  dear  friend,"  replied  the  general, 
shaking  his  head  mournfully. 

"  Hark  ye,  Sir  Frederick  Denbigh,"  cried  the  admiral 
fiercely ;  *'  did  you  not  say  that  your  son  George  was  to  marry 
my  daughter  V* 

"  I  certainly  did,  Sir  Peter,  and  am  sorry  to  say  that,  in 
defiance  of  my  entreaties  and  commands,  he  has  deserted 
his  home,  and,  in  consequence,  I  have  discarded  him  for 
ever.'* 

"  Now,  Denbigh,"  said  the  admiral,  a  good  deal  mollified 
by  this  declaration,  "  have  I  not  always  told  you,  that  in 
the  army  you  know  nothing  of  discipline  ?  Why,  sir,  if  he 
was  a  son  of  mine,  he  should  marry  blindfolded,  if  I  chose 
to  order  it.  I  wish,  now.  Bell  had  an  ofifer,  and  dared  to 
refuse  it." 

"  There  is  the  barber's  clerk,  you  know,"  said  the  general, 
a  good  deal  irritated  by  the  contemptuous  manner  of  his 
t  iend. 

"  And  what  of  that.  Sir  Frederick  ?"  said  the  sailor 
sternly  ;  *'  if  I  choose  her  to  marry  a  quill-driver,  she  shall 
comply." 

"  Ah !  my  good  friend,"  said  the  general,  willing  to  drop 
the  disagreeable  subject,  '•  I  am  afraid  we  shall  both  find  it 
more  difficidt  to  control  the  affections  of  our  children  thau 
we  at  first  imagined." 


piiKnAurroN,  44-7 

"You  do,  General  Denbigli  ?"  Sriid  the  admiral,  with  a 
curl  of  contempt  on  his  lip  ;  and  ringing  the  bell  violently, 
he  bid  the  servant  send  his  young  lady  to  hi'ni. 

On  the  appearance  of  Isabel,  her  father  inquired  with  an 
air  of  settled  meaning  where  young  Mr.  Ives  resided.  It  was 
only  in  the  next  street,  and  a  messenger  was  sent  to  him, 
with  Sir  Peter  Howell's  compliments,  and  a  request  to  see 
him  without  a  moment's  delay. 

"  We'll  see,  we'll  see,  my  old  friend,  who  keeps  the 
best  discipline,"  muttered  the  admiral,  as  he  paced  up  and 
down  the  room,  in  eager  expectation  of  the  return  of  his 
messenger. 

The  wonderinof  o-eneral  orazed  on  his  friend,  to  ascertain  if 
he  was  out  of  his  senses.  He  knew  he  was  quick  to  decide, 
and  excessively  obstinate,  but  he  did  not  think  him  so  crazy 
as  to  throw  away  his  daughter  in  a  fit  of  spleen.  It  never 
occurred  to  Sir  Frederick,  however,  that  the  engagement 
with  himself  was  an  act  of  equal  injustice  and  folly,  because 
it  was  done  with  more  form  and  deliberation,  which,  to  the 
eye  of  sober  reason,  would  rather  make  the  matter  worse. 
Isabel  sat  in  trembling  suspense  for  the  issue  of  the  scene, 
and  Ives  in  a  few  minutes  made  his  appearance  in  no  little 
alarm. 

On  entering,  the  admiral  addressed  him  abruptly,  by 
inquiring  if  he  still  wished  to  marry  that  girl,  pointing  to  his 
daughtti-.  The  reply  was  an  eager  affirmative.  Sir  Peter 
beckoned  to  Isabel,  who  approached,  covered  with  blushes; 
and  her  father  having  placed  her  hand  in  that  of  her  lover, 
with  an  air  of  great  solemnity  he  gave  them  his  blessing. 
The  young  people  withdrew  to  another  room  at  Sir  Peter's 
request,  when  he  turned  to  his  friend,  delighted  with  his 
own  decision  and  authority,  and  exclaimed, 

"  There,  Fred.  Denbigh,  that  is  what  T  call  being  minded." 


448  pcECArTiox. 

The  general  had  [lenetiatioii  enough  to  see  that  the  result 
was  agreeable  to  both  the  young  people,  a  thing  he  had 
long  apprehended ;  and  being  glad  to  get  rid  of  the  affair  in 
any  way  that  did  not  involve  him  in  a  quarrel  with  his  old 
comrade,  he  gravely  congratulated  the  admiral  on  his  good 
fortune  and  retired. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Sir  Peter  to  himself,  as  he  paced  up  and 
down  his  room,  "  Denbigh  is  mortified  enough,  with  his  joy, 
and  felicity,  and  grand-children.  I  never  had  any  opinion  of 
their  manner  of  discipline  at  all;  too  much  bowing  and 
scraping.  I'm  sorry,  though,  he  is  a  priest;  not  but  what  a 
priest  may  be  as  good  a  man  as  another,  but  let  him  behave 
ever  so  well,  he  can  only  get  to  be  a  bishop  at  the  most. 
Heaven  forbid  he  should  ever  get  to  be  a  Pope  !  After  all, 
his  boys  may  be  admirals  if  they  behave  themselves  ;"  and 
he  went  to  seek  his  daughter,  having  in  imagination  manned 
her  nursery  with  vice  and  rear  admirals  in  embryo  by  the 
half  dozen. 

Sir  Peter  Howell  survived  the  marriage  of  his  daughter 
but  eighteen  months ;  yet  that  was  sufficient  time  to  become 
attached  to  his  invaluable  son-in-law.     Mr.  Ives  insensibly 
led  the  admiral,  during  his  long  indisposition,  to  a  more  cor- 
rect view  of  sacred  things,  than  he  had  been  wont  to  enter- 
tain ;  and  the  old  man  breathed  his  last,  blessing  both  his 
children  for  their  kindness,  and  with  an  humble  hope  of  future 
happiness.     Some  time  before  his  death,  Isabel,  whose  con 
science  had  always  reproached  her  with  the  deception  prac 
tised  on  her  fatlier,  and  with  the  banishment  of  George  fron 
his  country  and  home,  threw  herself  at  the  feet  of  Sir  Peter 
and  acknowledged  her  transgression. 

The  admiral  heard  her  in  astonishment,  but  not  in  anger. 
His  opinions  of  life  had  sensibly  changed,  and  his  great  cause 
of  satisfaction  with  his  new  son  removed  all  motives  for  regret 


PRECAUTION.  449 

lor  anything  but  for  the  fate  of  poor  George.  With  the 
noble  forbearance  and  tenderness  of  the  young  man  to  his 
daughter,  the  hardy  veteran  was  sensibly  touched  ;  and  his 
tutreaties  with  Sir  Frederick  made  his  peace  with  a  father 
ah-eady  longing  for  the  return  of  his  only  hope. 

The  admiral*  left  Colonel  Denbigh  his  blessing,  and  his 
favorite  pistols,  as  a  remembrance  of  his  esteem ;  but  he  did 
not  live  to  see  the  reunion  with  his  family. 

George  had  soon  learnt,  deprived  of  hope  and  in  the  midst 
of  novelty,  to  forget  a  passion  which  could  no  longer  be 
prosperous;  and  two  years  from  his  departure  returned  to 
England,  glowing  in  health,  and  improved  in  person  and 
mannei-s  by  a  more  extensive  knowledge  of  the  world  and 
mankind. 


460 


PRSCAUIION. 


GHAPTEE  XLIY.    . 

During  the  lime  occupied  by  the  foregoing  events,  Francis 
ijontinued  a  gloomy  inmate  of  his  uncle's  house.  The  duke 
and  his  brother  George  were  too  indolent  and  inactive  in  their 
minds  to  pierce  the  cloud  that  mortification  and  deadened 
affections  had  drawn  around  the  real  character  of  then 
nephew ;  and  although  he  was  tolerated  as  the  heir,  he  was 
but  little  loved  as  a  man. 

In  losing  his  brother,  Francis  lost  the  only  human  *being 
with  whom  he  possessed  any  sympathies  in  common;  and  he 
daily  drew  more  and  more  into  himself,  in  gloomy  meditation 
on  his  forlorn  situation,  in  the  midst  of  wealth  and  expected 
lionors.  The  attentions  he  received  were  paid  to  his  rank, 
and  Francis  had  penetration  enough  to  perceive  it.  His  visits 
to  his  parents  were  visits  of  ceremony,  and  in  time  all  parties 
came  to  look  to  their  termination  with  pleasure,  as  to  the  dis- 
continuance of  heartless  and  forced  civilities. 

Affection,  even  in  the  young  man,  could  not  endure, 
repulsed  as  his  feelings  w^ere,  for  ever ;  and  in  the  course  of 
three  years,  if  his  attachments  were  not  alienated  from  his 
parents,  his  ardor  had  become  much  abated. 

It  is  a  dreadful  truth,  that  the  bonds  of  natural  affection 
can  be  broken  by  injustice  and  contumely;  and  it  is  yet 
more  to  be  deplored,  that  when  from  such  causes  we  loosen 
the  ties  habit  and  education  have  drawn  around  us,  a 
reaction  in  our  feelings  commences  ;  we  seldom  cease  to  love, 
bu^  we  begin  to  hate.  Against  such  awful  consequences  it 
IB  one  of  the  most  solemn  duties  of  the  parent  to  provide  iD 


PftEOAUTION.  <4^1 

fceason ;  and  what  surer  safeguard  is  there,  than  to  inculcate 
those  feehngs  which  teach  the  mind  to  love  God,  and  in  so 
doing  induce  love  to  the  whole  human  family  ? 

Sir  Frederick  and  Lady  Margaret  attended  the  churdh 
regularly,  repeated  the  responses  with  much  decency,  toasted 
the  church  next  to  the  king,  even  appeared  at  the  altai-s  of 
their  God,  and  continued  siimers.  From  such  sowings,  no 
good  fruit  could  be  expected  to  flourish  :  yet  Francis  was 
not  without  his  hours  of  devotion ;  but  his  religion  was,  like 
himself,  reserved,  superstitious,  ascetic,  and  gloomy.  He 
never  entered  into  socialworship  :  if  he  prayed  it  was  with 
an  ill-concealed  wish  to  end  this  life  of  care.  If  he  returned 
thanks,  it  was  with  a  bitterness  that  mocked  the  throne 
"before  which  he  was  prostrate.  Such  pictures  are  i-evolting ; 
but  their  originals  have  and  do  exist ;  for  what  enormity  is 
there  of  which  human  frailty,  unchecked  by  divine  assistance, 
raay  not  be  guilty  ? 

Francis  received  an  invitation  to  visit  a  brotner  of  his  mo- 
ther's at  his  seat  in  the  country,  about  the  time  of  the 
expected  return  of  George  from  America ;  and  in  compli- 
ance with  the  wishes  of  his  uncles  he  accepted  it.  The  house 
was  thronged  with  visitors,  and  many  of  them  were  ladies. 
To  these,  the  arrival  of  the  unmarried  heir  of  the  house  of 
Derwent  was  a  subject  of  no  little  interest.  His  character 
had,  however,  preceded  him,  and  a  few  days  of  his  awkward 
and,  as  they  conceived,  sullen  deportment,  drove  them  back 
to  their  former  beaux,  with  the  exception  of  one  ;  and  she  was 
not  only  amongst  the  fairest  of  the  throng,  but  decidedly  of  the 
highest  pretensions  on  the  score  of  birth  and  for'tune. 

Marian  Lumley  was  the  only  surviving  child  of  the  last 
Duke  of  Annerdale,  with  whom  had  expired  the  higher 
honors  of  his  house.  But  the  Earldom  of  Penlennyss,  with 
uuraerous  ancient  baronies,  were  titles  in  fee  ;  and  together 


452  PRECAUTION. 

with  his  princely  estates  had  descended  to  his  daughter  aa 
heir-general  of  the  family.  A  peeress  in  her  own  right,  with 
an  income  far  exceeding  her  utmost  means  of  expenditure, 
the  lovely  Countess  of  Pendennyss  was  a  prize  aimed  at  by 
all  the  young  nobles  of  the  empire. 

Educated  in  the  midst  of  flatterers  and  dependants  sha 
had  become  haughty,  vain,  and  supercilious;  still  she  was 
lovely,  and  no  one  knew  better  how  to  practise  the  most  win- 
ning arts  of  her  sex,  when  whim  or  interest  prompted  her  to 
the  trial. 

Her  host  was  her  guardian  and  relative ;  and  through  his 
agency  she  had  rejected,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  numerous 
suitors  for  her  hand.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  ducal 
coronet ;  and  unfortunately  for  Francis  Denbigh,  he  was,  At 
the  time,  the  only  man  of  the  proper  age  who  could  elevate 
her  to  that  enviable  distinction  in  the  kingdom ;  and  an  indi- 
rect measure  of  her  own  liad  been  the  means  of  his  invita- 
tion to  the  country. 

Like  the  rest  of  her  young  companions,  Marian  was  greatly 
disappointed  on  the  view  of  her  intended  captive,  and  for  a 
day  or  two  she  abandoned  him  to  his  melancholy  and  him- 
self. But  ambition  was  her  idol ;  and  to  its  powerful  rival, 
love,  she  was  yet  a  stranger.  After  a  few  struggles  with  her 
inclinations  the  consideration  that  their  united  fortunes  and 
family  alliances  would  make  one  of  the  wealthiest  and  most 
powerful  houses  in  the  kingdom,  prevailed.  Such  early  sa 
orifices  of  the  inclinations  in  a  woman  of  her  beauty,  youth 
and  accomplishments,  may  excite  surprise;  but  where  the 
mind  is  left  uncultivated  by  the  hand  of  care,  the  soul  un- 
touched by  the  love  of  goodness,  the  human  heart  seldom 
fails  to  set  up  an  idol  of  its  own  to  worship.  In  the  Coun- 
tess of  Pendennyss  this  idol  was  pride. 

The  remainder  of  the  ladies,  from  ceasing  to  wonder  at  the 


PRECAtJTlOK.  453 

manners  of  Francis,  had  made  them  the  subject  of  theif 
mirth  ;  and  nettled  at  his  apparent  indifference  to  their  soci- 
ety, which  they  erroneously  attributed  to  his  sense  of  his 
importance,  they  overstepped  the  bounds  of  good-breeding 
in  manifesting  their  displeasure. 

"  Mr.  Denbigh,"  cried  one  of  the  most  thoughtless  and 
pretty  of  the  gay  tribe  to  him  one  day,  as  Francis  sat  in  a 
corner  abstracted  from  the  scene  around  him,  "  when  do  you 
mean  to  favor  the  world  with  your  brilliant  ideas  in  the 
shape  of  a  book  ?" 

"  Oh  !  no  doubt  soon,"  said  a  second  ;  "  and  I  expect  they 
will  be  homilies,  or  another  volume  to  the  Whole  Duty  of 
Man." 

"  Rather,"  cried  a  third,  with  bitter  irony,  "  another  canto 
to  the  Rape  of  the  Lock,  his  ideas  are  so  vivid  and  full  of 
imagery." 

"Or,  what  do  you  think,"  said  a  fourth,  speaking  in  a  voice 
of  harmony,  and  tones  of  the  most  soothing  tenderness,  "  of 
pity  and  compassion,  for  the  follies  of  those  inferior  minds, 
who  cannot  enjoy  the  reflections  of  a  good  sense  and  modesty 
peculiarly  his  own  ?" 

This  might  also  be  irony  ;  and  Francis  thought  it  so;  but 
the  tones  were  so  soft  and  conciliating,  that  with  a  face  pale 
with  his  emotions,  he  ventured  to  look  up  and  met  the  eye  of 
Marian,  fixed  on  him  in  an  expression  that  changed  his  death- 
like hue  into  the  color  of  vermillion. 

He  thought  of  this  speech  ;  he  reasoned  on  it ;  he  dreamt 
on  it.  But  for  the  looks  which  accompanied  it,  like  the  rest 
of  the  party,  he  would  have  thought  it  the  cruellest  cut  of 
them  all.  But  that  look,  those  eyes,  that  voice,  what  a  com- 
mentary on  her  language  did  they  not  afford ! 

Francis  was  not  long  in  suspense ;  the  next  morning  an 
excursion  was  proposed,  which  included  all  but  himself  in  its 


4)54  pr«P'^Ut;k>Ni 

arrangements.     He  was  either  too  reserved  or  too  proud  to 
offer  services  whicii  were  not  required. 

Several  gentlemen  had  contended  for  the  honor  of  driving 
the  counters  in  a  beautiful  phaeton  of  her  own.  They  grew 
earnest  in  their  claims:  one  had  been  promised  by  its  mis- 
tress with  an  opportunity  of  trying  the  ease  of  the  carriage; 
another  was  deliofhted  with  the  excellent  training  of  her 
horses ;  in  short,  all  had  some  particular  claim  to  the  dis- 
tinction, which  was  urged  with  a  warmth  and  pertinacity 
proportionate  to  the  value  of  the  prize  to  be  obtained.  Ma- 
rian heard  the  several  claimants  with  an  ease  and  indifference 
natural  to  her  situation,  and  ended  the  dispute  by  say- 
ing— 

''Gentlemen,  as  I  have  made  so  many  promises  from  the 
dread  of  giving  offence,  I  must  throw  myself  on  the  mercy 
of  Mr.  Denbigh,  who  alone,  with  the  best  claims,  does  not 
urge  them;  to  you  then,"  continued  she,  approaching  him 
with  the  whip  which  was  to  be  given  the  victor,  '*  I  adjudge 
the  prize,  if  you  will  condescend  to  accept  it." 

This  was  uttered  with  one  of  her  most  attractive  smiles, 
and  Francis  received  the  whip  with  an  emotion  that  he  with 
difficulty  could  control* 

The  gentlemen  were  glad  to  have  the  contest  decided  by 
adjudging  the  prize  to  one  so  little  dangerous,  and  the  ladies 
sneered  at  her  choice  as  they  left  the  house. 

There  was  something  so  soothing  in  the  manners  of  Lady 
Tendennyss,  she  listened  to  the  little  he  said  with  such  a 
respectful  attention,  was  so  anxious  to  have  him  give  his 
opinions,  that  the  unction  of  flattery,  thus  sweetly  applied, 
and  for  the  first  time,  could  not  fail  of  its  wonted  effects. 

The  Communications  thus  commenced  were  continued.     I 
WAS  so  easy  to   be  attentive,  by  being  simply  polite  to  one 
unused  to  notice  of  any  kind,  that  Marian  found  the  fate  of  the 


PRECAUTION.  455 

young  man  in  her  hands  almost  as  soon  as  she  attempted  to 
control  it. 

A  new  existence  opened  upon  Francis,  as  day  after  day 
she- insensibly  led  him  to  a  display  of  powers  he  was  uncon- 
scious until  now  of  possessing  himself.  His  self-respect 
began  to  increase,  his  limited  pleasures  to  multiply,  and  he 
could  now  look  around  him  with  a  sense  of  participation  in 
t'je  delights  of  life,  as  he  perceived  himself  of  conscijuence  to 
this  much  admired  woman. 

Trifling  incidents,  managed  on  her  part  with  consummate 
art,  had  led  him  to  the  daring  inference  that  he  was  not 
entirely  indifferent  to  her;  and  Francis  returned  the  incipient 
affection  of  his  mistress  with  a  feeling  but  little  removed  from 
adoration.  Week  flew  by  after  week,  and  still  he  lingered 
at  the  residence  of  his  kinsman,  unable  to  tear  himself  from 
the  society  of  one  so  worshipped,  and  yet  afraid  to  take  a 
step  by  making  a  distinct  declaration  which  might  involve 
nim  in  disgrace  or  ridicule. 

The  condescension  of  the  countess  increased,  and  she  had 
indirectly  given  him  the  most  flattering  assurances  of  his 
success,  when  George,  just  anived  from  America,  having  first 
paid  his  greetings  to  his  reconciled  parents,  and  the  happy 
couple  of  his  generosity,  flew  to  the  arms  of  his  brother  in 
Suffolk. 

*  Francis  was  overjoyed  to  see  George,  and  George  de- 
Ighted  in  the  visible  improvement  of  his  brother.  Still 
i-'rancis  was  far,  veiy  far  behind  his  junior  in  graces  of  mind 
and  body  ;  indeed,  few  men  in  England  were  more  adapted 
by  nature  and  education  for  female  society  than  was  Colonel 
Dt-nbigh  at  the  period  of  which  we  write. 

Marian  witnessed  all  his  attractions,  and  deei)ly  felt  their 
influence;  for  the  first  time  she  felt  the  emotions  of  the 
gentle  passion ;  and   after  having  sported  in  the  gay  world, 


456  PRECAUTION. 

find  trifled  with*the  feelings  of  others  for  years,  the  countess 
in  her  turn  became  an  unwilling  victim  to  its  power.  George 
met  her  flame  with  a  corresponding  ardor,  and  the  struggle 
between  ambition  and  love  became  severe  ;  the  brothers 
unconsciously  were  rivals. 

Had  George  for  a  moment  suspected  the  situation  of  the 
feelings  of  Francis,  his  very  superiority  in  the  contest  would 
have  induced  him  to  retreat  from  the  unnatural  rivalry. 
Had  the  elder  dreamt  of  the  views  of  his  junior,  he  would 
have  abandoned  his  dearest  hopes  in  utter  despair.  Francis 
had  so  long  been  accustomed  to  consider  George  as  his 
superior  in  everything,  that  a  competition  with  him  would 
have  appeared  desperate.  Marian  contrived  to  keep  both 
in  hopes,  undecided  herself  which  to  choose,  and  perhaps 
ready  to  yield  to  the  first  apphcant.  A  sudden  event, 
however,  removed  all  doubts,  and  decided  the  fate  of  the 
three. 

The  Duke  of  Derwent  and  his  bachelor  brother  became 
so  dissatisfied  with  the  character  of  their  future  heir,  that 
they  as  coolly  set  about  providing  themselves  with  wives  as 
they  had  performed  any  other  ordinary  transaction  of  life. 
They  married  cousins,  and  on  the  same  day  the  choice  of 
the  ladies  was  assigned  between  them  by  lots ;  and  if  his 
grace  got  the  prettier,  his  brother  certainly  got  the  richest ; 
under  the  circumstances  a  very  tolerable  distribution  of  for- 
tune's favors. 

These  double  marriages  dissolved  the  charm  of  Francis, 
and  Lady  Pendennys.s  determined  to  consult  her  wishes  ;  a 
httle  pointed  encouragement  brought  out  the  declaration  of 
George,  and  he  was  accepted. 

Francis,  who  had  never  communicated  his  feelings  to  any 
one  but  the  lady,  and  that  only  indirectly,  was  crushed  by 
the  blow.     He  continued  in   public   until  the  day  of  their 


rn  EC  ACTION.  457 

union ;  was  present,  composed  and  silent ;  but  it  was  the 
silence  of  a  mountain  whose  volcanic  contents  had  not 
reached  the  surface.  The  same  day  he  disappeared,  and 
every  inquiiy  after  him  proved  fruitless ;  search  was  baffled, 
and  for  seven  years  it  was  not  known  what  had  become  of 
the  general's  eldest  son. 

George  on  marrying  resigned  his  commission,  at  the 
earnest  entreaties  of  his  wife,  and  retired  to  one  of  her  seats, 
to  the  enjoyment  of  ease  and  domestic  love.  The  countess 
was  enthusiastically  attached  to  him  ;  and  as  motives  for  the 
indulgence  of  coquetry  were  wanting,  hor  character  became 
gradually  improved  by  the  contemplation  of  the  excellent 
qualities  of  her  generous  husband. 

A  lurking  suspicion  of  the  cause  of  Francis's  sudden 
disappearance  rendered  her  uneasy  at  times ;  but  Marian 
was  too  much  beloved,  too  happy,  in  the  enjoyment  of  too 
many  honors,  and  of  too  great  wealth,  to  be  open  to  the 
convictions  of  conscience.  It  is  in  our  hours  of  pain  and 
privation  that  we  begin  to  feel  its  sting  :  if  we  are  prosper- 
ous, we  fancy  we  reap  the  fruits  of  our  own  merit ;  but  if 
we  are  unfortunate,  the  voice  of  truth  seldom  fails  to 
remind  us  that  we  are  deserving  of  our  fate: — a  blessed 
provision  of  Providence  that  often  makes  the  saddest  hours 
of  our  earthly  career  the  morn  of  a  day  that  is  to  endure  for 
ever. 

General  Denbigh  and  Lady  Margaret  both  died  within 
five  years  of  the  marriage  of  their  favorite  child,  although 
both  lived  to  see  their  descendant,  in  the  person  of  the 
infant  Lord  Lumley. 

The  duke  and  his  brother  George  were  each  blessed  with 

offspring,  and  in  these  several   descendants  of  the  different 

branches  of  the  family  of  Denbigh  may  be  seen  the  different 

personages  of  our  history.     On  the  birth  of  her  youngest 

20 


458  PRECAUTIOX. 

child,  the  Lady  Marian,  the  Countess  of  Pendennyss  sustained 
a*  shock  in  her  health  from  which  she  never  wholly  reco- 
vered :  she  became  nervous,  and  lost  most  of  her  energy  both 
of  mind  and  body.  Her  husband  was  her  solace  ;  his  tender- 
ness remaining  unextinguished,  while  his  attentions  increased. 

As  the  fortune  of  Ives  and  Isabel  put  the  necessity  of  a 
living  out  of  the  question,  and  no  cure  offering  for  the  accep- 
tance of  the  first,  he  was  happy  to  avail  himself  of  an  offer 
to  become  domestic  chaplain  to  his  now  intimate  friend,  Mr. 
Denbigh.  For  the  first  six  years  they  were  inmates  of  Pen- 
dennyss Castle.  The  rector  of  the  parish  was  infiim,  and 
averse  to  a  regular  assistant ;  but  the  unobtrusive  services 
of  Mr.  Ives  were  not  less  welcome  to  the  pastor  than  to  his 
parishioners. 

Employed  in  the  duties  which  of  right  fell  to  the  incum- 
bent, and  intrusted  with  the  spiritual  guardianship  of  the 
dependants  of  the  castle,  our  young  clergyman  had  ample 
occupation  for  all  his  time,  if  not  a  sufficient  theatre  for  his 
usefulness.  Isabel  and  himself  remained  the  year  round  in 
Wales,  and  the  first  dawnings  of  education  received  by  Lord 
Lumley  were  those  he  acquired  conjointly  with  Francis  from 
the  care  of  the  latter's  father.  They  formed,  with  the  inter- 
val of  the  time  spent  by  Mr.  Denbigh  and  Lady  Pendennyss 
in  town  in  winter,  but  one  family.  To  the  gentleman,  the 
attachment  of  the  grateful  Ives  was  as  strong  as  it  was 
lasting.  Mrs.  Ives  never  ceased  to  consider  him  as  a  self- 
devoted  victim  to  her  happiness  ;  and  although  a  far  more 
brilliant  lot  had  awaited  him  by  the  change,  yet  her  own 
husband  could  not  think  it  a  more  happy  one. 

The  birth  of  Lady  Marian  had  already,  in  its  consequences, 
begun  to  throw  a  gloom  round  the  domestic  comforts  of 
Denbio-h,  when  he  was  to  sustain  another  misfortune  in  a 
Eepnration  from  liis  fiiends. 


PRECAUTION.  45!| 

Mr.,  now  Dr.  Ives,  had  early  announced  Tiis  firm  intention, 
whenever  an  opportunity  was  afforded  him,  to  enter  intn 
the  fullest  functions  of  his  ministry,  as   a   matter  of  duty 

Such  an  opportunity  now  offered  at  B ,  and  the  doctor 

became  its  rector  ab(>ut  the  period  Sir  Edward  became  pos- 
sessor of  his  paternal  estate. 

Denbigh  tried  every  inducement  within  his  power  to  keep 
the  doctor  in  his  own  society.  If  as  many  thousands  as  his 
living  Avould  give  him  hundreds  could  effect  it,  they  would 
have  been  at  his  service ;  but  Denbigh  understood  the 
character  of  the  divine  too  well  to  offer  such  an  induce- 
ment :  he  however  urged  the  claims  of  friendship  to  the 
utmost,  but  without  success.  The  doctor  acknowledged  the 
hold  both  himself  and  family  had  gained  upon  his  aftections, 
but  he  added — 

"  Consider,  my  dear  Mr.  Denbigh,  what  we  would  have 
thought  of  one  of  the  earlier  followers  of  our  Saviour,  who 
from  motives  of  convenience  or  worldly-mindedness  could 
have  deserted  his  sacred  calling.  Although  the  changes  in 
the  times  may  have  rendered  the  modes  of  conducting  them 
different, .  necessarily  the  duties  remain  the  same.  The 
minister  of  our  holy  religion  who  has  once  submitted  to  the 
call  of  his  divine  Master,  must  allow  nothing  but  ungovern- 
able necessity  to  turn  him  from  the  path  he  has  entered  on  ; 
nnd  should  he  so  hr  forget  himself,  I  greatly  fear  he  would 
plead,  when  too  late  to  remedy  the  evil,  his  worldly  duties, 
his  cares,  or  even  his  misfortunes,  in  vain.  Solemn  and 
arduous  are  his  obligations  to  labor,  but  when  faithfully 
he  has  discharged  these  duties,  oh !  how  glorious  must  be 
his  reward." 

Before  such  opinions  every  barrier  must  fjill,  and  the 
doctor  entered  into  the  cure  of  his  parish  without  further 
opposition,  though    not  without   unceasing  regret-  on  the 


i\i\0  PRECAUTION.. 

tmrt  of  his  friend.  Their  intercourse  was,  however,  main- 
^lined  by  letter,  and  they  also  frecjuently  met  at  Lumley 
Castle,  a  seat  of  the  countess's,  within  two  days'  ride  of  the 
doctor's  parish,  until  her  ihcreasing  indisposition  rendered 
journeying  impossible  ;  then,  indeed,  the  doctor  extended 
Lis  rides  into  Wales,  but  with  longer  intervals  between  his 
visits,  though  with  the  happiest  effects  to  the  objects  of  his 
journey. 

Mr.  Denbigh,  worn  down  with  watching  and  blasted 
hopes,  under  the  direction  of  the  spiritual  watchfulness  of 
the  rector  of  B — ^,  became  an  humble,  sincere,  and  piou« 
OhristiaiL 


PBKOAUTION.  461 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

It  has  been  already  mentioned,  that  the  health  of  Lady 
Pendennyss  suffered  9,  severe  shock,  in  giving  birth  to  a 
daughter.  Change  of  sceae  was  prescribed  as  a  remedy  for 
her  disorder,  and  Denbigh  and  his  wife  were  on  their  return 
from  a  fruitless  excursion  amongst  the  northern  lakes,  in 
pursuit  of  amusement  and  relief  for  the  latter  when  they 
were  compelled  to  seek  shelter  from  the  fury  of  a  sudden 
gust  in  the  first  building  that  offered.  It  was  a  farm-house 
of  the  better  sort ;  and  the  attendants,  carriages,  and 
appearance  of  their  guests,  caused  no  little  confusion  to  its 
simple  inmates.  A  fire  was  lighted  in  the  best  parlor,  and 
every  effort  was  made  by  the  inhabitants  to  contribute  to 
the  comforts  of  the  travellers. 

The  countess  and  her  husband  were  sitting  in  that  kind  of 
listless  melancholy  which  had  been  too  much  the  companion 
of  their  later  hours,  when  in  the  interval  of  the  storm,  a 
male  voice  in  an  adjoining  room  commenced  singing  the 
following  ballad,  the  notes  being  low,  monotonous,  but 
unusually  sweet,  and  the  enunciation  so  distinct,  as  to  rende 
every  syllable  intelligible  : 

Oh !  I  have  Hved  in  endless  pain. 
And  I  have  lived,  alas  I  in  vain, 

For  none  regard  my  woe — 
No  father's  care  conveyed  the  truth, 
No  mother's  fondness  blessed  my  youth. 

Ah !  joys  too  great  to  know — 


Ib2  PRECAUTION". 

And  Marian's  love,  and  Marian's  pride, 
Have  crushed  the  heart  that  would  have  died. 

To  save  my  Marian's  tears — 
A  brother's  hand  has  struck  the  blow 
Oh  1  may  that  brother  never  know 

Such  madly  sorrowing  years  1 

But  hush  my  griefs — and  hush  my  song, 
I've  mourned  in  vain — I've  mourned  too  loD^ 

When  none  have  come  to  soothe — 
And  dark's  the  patli,  that  lies  before, 
And  dark  have  been  the  days  of  yore, 

And  all  was  dark  in  youth. 

Tlie  maids  employed  around  the  person  of  their  comfort- 
less mistress,  the  val^t  of  Denbigh  engaged  in  arranging  a 
dry  coat  for  his  master — all  suspended  their  employments 
to  listen  in  breathless  silence  to  the  mournful  melody  of  the 
song. 

But  Denbigh  himself  had  started  from  his  seat  at  the 
first  notes,  and  he  continued  until  the  voice  ceased,  gazing 
in  vacant  horror  in  the  direction  of  the  sounds.  A  door 
opened  from  the  parlor  to  the  room  of  the  musician  ;  he 
rushed  through  it,  and  there,  in  a  kind  of  shed  to  the- 
building,  which  hardly  sheltered  him  from  the  fury  of  the 
tempest,  clad  in  the  garments  of  the  extremest  poverty, 
with  an  eye  roving  in  madness,  and  a  body  rocking  to  and 
fro  from  mental  inquietude,  he  beheld  seated  on  a  stone, 
the  remains  of  his  long  lost  brother,  Francis. 

The  language  of  the  song  was  too  plain  to  be  misunder 
stood.     The  truth    glared    around  George  with  a  violenc 
that  dazzled  his  brain  ;  but  he  saw  it  all,  he  felt  it  all,  and 
rushing  to  the  feet  of  his  brother,   he  exclaimed  in  horror; 
pressing  his  hands  between  his  own, — 

"Francis — my  own  brother — do  yoi?  not  know  me?" 


PRKCAUTIOX.  4G3 

The  maniac  regarded  him  with  a  vacant  gaze,  but  the 
oice  and  the  person  recalled  the  compositions  of  his  more 
reasonable  moments  to  liis  recollection ;  jmshing  back  the 
hair  of  George,  so  as  to  expose  his  fine  forehead  to  view,  he 
contemplated  him  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  continued 
ty  sing,  in  a  voice  still  rendered  sweeter  than  before  hy  his 
fciint  impressions : 

His  raven  locks,  that  riehlj  curled, 
His  eye,  that  proud  defiance  hurled. 

Have  stol'n  my  Marian's  love  1 
Had  I  been  blest  by  nature's  grace, 
With  such  a  forni,  with  such  a  face, 

Could  I  so  treacherous  prove  ?  ^ 

And  what  is  man — and  what  is  care- 
That  he  should  let  such  passions  tear 

The  bases  of  the  soul  ? 
Oh !  you  should  do,  as  I  have  done — 
And  having  pleasure's  summit  won. 

Each  bursting  sob  control ! 

On  ending  the  last  stanza,  the  maniac  released  his  brother, 
and  broke  into  the  wildest  lau^fh  of  madness. 

"  Francis  !-^0h !  Francis,  my  brother,"  cried  George,  m 
bitterness.  A  piercing  shriek  drew  his  eye  to  the' door  he 
had  passed  through — on  its  threshold  lay  the  senseless 
body  of  his  wife.  The  distracted  husband  foi-got  everything 
in  the  situation  of  his  Marian,  and  raising  her  in  his  arms, 
he  exclaimed, — 

"  j\[arian — my  Marian,  revive — look  up — know  me." 

Francis  had  followed  him,  and  now  stood  by  his  side, 
gazing  intently  on  the  Hfeless  body;  his  looks  became  more 
soft — his  eye  glanced  less  wildly — he  too  cried, — 

**  Marian — My  Marian." 


464  PRECAUTION. 

There  was  a  mighty  effort  j  nature  could  endure  no  more, 
he  broke  a  blood-vessel  and  fell  at  the  feet  of  George.  They 
flew  to  his  assistance,  giving  the  countess  to  her  women;  but 
he  was  dead. 

For  seventeen  years  Lady  Pendennyss  survived  this  shock : 
but  having  reached  her  own  abode,  during  that  long  period 
she  never  left  her  room. 

In  the  confidence  of  his  surviving  hopes,  Doctor  Ives  and 
his  wife  were  made  acquainted  with  the  real  cause  of  the 
grief  of  their  friend,  but  the  truth  went  no  further.  Denbigh 
was  the  guardian  of  his  three  young  cousins,  the  duke,  his 
sister,  and  young  George  Denbigli ;  these,  with  his  son, 
Lord  Lumley,  and  daughter.  Lady  Maiian,  were  removed 
from  the  melancholy  of  the  Castle  to  scenes  better  adapted 
to  their  opening  prospects  in  life.  Yet  Lumley  was  fond  of 
the  society  of  his  father,  and  finding  him  a  youth  endowed 
beyond  his  years,  the  care  of  his  parent  was  early  turned  to 
the  most  important  of  his  duties  in  that  sacred  office ;  and 
when  he  yielded  to  his  wishes  to  go  into  the  army,  he  knew 
he  went  a  youth  of  sixteen,  possessed  of  principles  and  self- 
denial  that  w^ould  become  a  man  of  five-and-twenty. 

General  Wilson  completed  the  work  which  the  father  had 
begun ;  and  Lord  Lumley  formed  a  singular  exception  to  the 
character  of  most  of  his  companions. 

At  the  close  of  the  Spanish  war,  he  returned  home, 
and  was  just  in  time  to  receive  the  partinj^  breath  of  his 
mother, 

A  few  days  before  her  death,  the  countess  requested  that 
her  children  might  be  made  acquainted  with  her  history  and 
misconduct;  and  she  placed  in  the  hands  of  her  son  a  letter, 
with  directions  for  him  to  o])en  it  after  her  decease.  It  was 
addressed  to  both  children,  and  after  recapitulating'generally 
the  principal  events  of  hei-  life,  continued : 


PRECAUTION.  465 

*'Thu6,  my  chiUi«n,  you  perceive  the  consequences  of 
indulgence  and  hardness  of  heart,  which  made  me  insensible 
to  the  Eud"erings  of  others,  and  regardless  of  the  plainest  dic- 
tates of  justice.  Self  was  my  idol.  The  love  of  admiration, 
which  was  natural  to  me,  was  increased  by  the  flatterers  who 
surrounded  me  ;  and  had  the  customs  of  our  country  suffered 
royalty  to  descend  in  their  unions  to  a  grade  in  life  below 
their  own,  your  uncle  would  have  escaped  the  fangs  of  xny 
baneful  coquetry. 

''  Oh  !  Marian,  my  child,  never  descend  so  low  as  to  prac- 
tise those  arts  which  have  degraded  your  unhappy  mother. 
I  would  impress  on  you,  as  a  memorial  of  my  parting  affec- 
tion, these  simple  truths — that  coquetry  stands  next  to  the  want 
of  chastity  in  the  scale  of  female  vices  ;  it  is  in  fact  a  kind  of 
mental  prostitution ;  it  is  ruinous  to  all  that  delicacy  of 
feeling  which  gives  .added  lustre  to  female  charms ;  it  is 
almost  destructive  to  modesty  itself.  A  woman  who  has 
been  addicted  to  its  practice,  may  strive  long  and  in  vain  to 
regain  that  singleness  of  heart,  which  can  bind  her  up  so 
closely  in  her  husband  and  children  as  to  make  her  a  good 
wife  or  a  mother ;  and  if  it  should  have  degenerated  into 
habit,  it  may  lead  to  the  awful  result  of  infidelity  to  her  mar- 
riage vows. 

*'  It  is  vain  for  a  coquette  to  pretend  to  religion  ;  its  prac- 
tice involves  hypocrisy,  falsehood,  and  deception — everything 
that  is  mean — everything  that  is  debasing.  In  short,  as  it 
Is  bottomed  on  selfishness  and  pride,  where  it  has  once  pos- 
sessed the  mind,  it  will  only  yield  to  the  truth-displaying 
banners  of  the  cross.  This,  and  this  only,  can  remove  the  evil ; 
for  without  it  she,  whom  the  charms  of  youth  and  beauty 
have  enabled  to  act  the  coquette,  will  descend  into  the  vale 
of  life,  altered,  it  is  true,  but  not  amended.  She  will  find  the 
world,  with  its  allurements,  clinging  around  her  parting  years, 
20* 


466  PRECAUTION. 

in  vain  regrets  for  days  that  are  flown,  and  in  mercenary 
views  for  her  descendants.  Heaven  bless  you,  my  children , 
console  and  esteem  your  inestimable  father  while  he  yet 
remains  with  you;  and  place  your  reliance  on  that  Heavenly 
Parent  who  will  never  desert  those  who  seek  him  in  sincerty 
and  love.     Your  dying  mother,  "  M.  Pendenxyss." 

This  letter,  evidently  written  under  the  excitement  of  deep 
remorse,  made  a  great  impression  on  both  her  children.  In 
Lady  Marian  it  Avas  pity,  regret,  and  abhorrence  of  the  fault 
which  had  been  the  principal  cause  of  the  wreck  of  her  jno- 
ther's  peace  of  mind  ;  but  in  her  brother,  now  Earl  of  Pen- 
dennyss,  these  feelings  weie  united  with  a  jealous  dread  of 
his  own  probable  lot  in  the  chances  of  matrimony. 

His  uncle  had  been  the  supposed  heir  to  a  more  elevated 
title  than  his  own,  but  he  was  now  the  actual  possessor  of  as 
honorable  a  name,  and  of  much  larger  revenues.  The  great 
wealth  of  his  maternal  grandfather,  and  the  considerable 
estate  of  his  own  father,  were,  or  would  soon  be,  centred  in 
himself;  and  if  a  woman  as  amiable,  as  faultless,  as  affection 
had  taught  him  to  believe  his  mother  to  be,  could  yield  in 
her  situation  to  the  lure  of  worldly  honors,  had  he  not  great 
reason  to  dread,  that  a  hand  might  be  bestowed  at  some  day 
upon  himself,  when  the  heart  would  point  out  some  other 
destination,  if  the  i*eal  wishes  of  its  owner  were  consulted  ? 

Pendennyss  was  modest  by  nature,  and  humble  froni  prin- 
ciple, though  by  no  means  disti'ustful ;  yet  the  shock  of  dis- 
covering his  mother's  fault,  the  gloom  occasioned  by  her 
'■'eath  and  his  father's  declining  health,  sometimes  led  him 
into  a  ti-ain  of  reflections  which,  at  others,  he  would  have 
fervently  deprecated. 

A  short  time  after  the  decease  of  the  countess,  Mr.  Den- 
bigh,  finding  his   constitution    fast  giving   way,   under  the 


PRECAUTION.  407 

wasting  of  a  decline  he  had  been  in  for  a  year,  resolved  to 
finish  his  days  in  the  abode  of  his  Christian  friend,  Doctor 
Ives.  For  several  years  they  had  not  met ;  increasing  duties 
and  infirmities  on  both  sides  having  interrupted  their 
visits. 

By  easy  stages  he  left  the  residence  of  his  son  in  Wales, 
and  accompanied  by  both  his  children  he  reached  Lumley 
Castle  much  exhausted;  here  he  took  a  solemn  and  final 
leave  of  Marian,  unwilling  that  she  should  so  soon  witness 
again  the  death  of  another  parent,  and  dismissing  the  earl's 

equipage  and  attendants  a  short  day's  ride  from  B ,  they 

proceeded  alone  to  the  rectory. 

A  letter  had  been  forwarded  acquainting  the  doctor  of  his 
approaching  visit,  wishing  it  to  be  perfectly  private,  but  not 
alluding  to  its  object,  and  naming  a  day,  a  week  later  than 
the  one  on  which  he  ariived.  This  plan  was  altered  on  per* 
ceiving  the  torch  of  life  more  rapidly  approaching  the  socket 
than  he  had  at  first  supposed.  His  unexpected  appearance 
and  reception  are  known.  Denbigh's  death  and  the  depar- 
ture of  his  son  followed ;  Francis  having  been  Pendennyss's 
companion  to  the  tomb  of  his  ancestors  in  Westmoreland. 

The  earl  had  a  sh linking  delicacy,  under  the  knowledge  of 
his  family  history,  that  made  him  anxious  to  draw  all  eyes 
from  the  contemplation  of  his  mother's  conduct ;  how  far  the 
knowledge  of  it  had  extended  in  society  he  could  not  know, 
but  he  wished  it  buried  withh-r  in  the  tomb.  The  peculiar 
manner  of  his  fathei's  death  would  attract  notice,  and  might 
recall  attention  to  the  prime  cause  of  his  disorder ;  as  yet  all 
was  veiled,  and  he  wished  the  doctor's  family  to  let  it  lemain 
so.  It  was,  however,  impossible  that  the  death  of  a  man  of 
Mr.  Denbigh's  rank  should  be  unnoticed  in  the  prints,  and  the 
care  of  Francis  dictated  the  simple  truth  without  comments, 
as  it  appeared.     As  regarded  the  Mo&eleys,  what  was  more 


468  PRECAUTION. 

natural  than  that  the  son  of  Mr.  Denbigh  should  also  be  Mr, 
Denbigh  / 

In  the  presence  of  the  rector's  family  no  allusions  were 
made  to  their  friends,  and  the  villagers. and  the  neighbor- 
hood spoke  of  them  as  old  and  young  Mr.  Denbigh. 

The  name  of  Lord  Lumley,  now  Earl  of  Pendennyss,  was 
known  to  the  whole  British  nation  ;  but  the  long  retirement 
of  his  father  and  mother  had  driven  them  almost  from  the 
recollection  of  their  friends.  Even  Mi-s.  Wilson  supposed 
her  favorite  hero  a  Lumley.  Pendennyss  Castle  had  been 
for  centuries  the  proud  residence  of  that  family  ;  and  the 
change  of  name  in  its  possessor  was  forgotten  with  the  cir- 
cumstances that  had  led  to  it. 

When,  therefore,  Emily  met  the  earl  so  unexpectedly  the 
second  time  at  the  rectory,  she,  of  course,  with  all  her  com- 
panions, spoke  of  him  as  Mr.  Denbigh.  On  that  occasion, 
Pendennyss  had  called  in  person,  in  expectation  of  meeting 
his  kinsman,  Lord  Bolton  ;  but,  finding  him  absent,  he  could 
not  resist  his  desire  to  visit  the  rectory.  Accordingly,  he 
sent  his  carriage  and  servants  on  to  London,  leaving  them  at 
a  convenient  spot,  and  arrived  on  foot  at  the  house  of  Dr. 
Ives.  From  the  same  motives  which  had  influenced  hini 
before — a  wish  to  indulge,  undisturbed  by  useless  ceremony, 
his  melancholy  reflections — he  desired  that  his  name  miglit 
not  be  mentioned. 

This  was  an  easy  task.  Both  Doctor  and  Mrs.  Ives  had 
called  him,  when  a  child,  George  or  Lumley,  and  were 
unused  to  his  new  appellation  of  Pendennyss;  indeed,  it 
rather  recallt-d  painful  recollections  to  them  all. 

It  may  be  remembered  that  circumstances  removed  the 
necessity  of  any  introduction  to  Mrs.  Wilson  and  h^r  party  ; 
and  the  difficulty  in  that  instance  was  happily  got  rid  of. 

The  earl  had  often  heaid  Emily  Moseley  spokep  pf  hy 


PRECAUTION.  4(J9 

his  friends,  aiad  in  tlieir  leiters  tliey  frequently  mentioned 
her  name  as  connected  with  their  pleasures  and"  employments, 
and  always  with  an  affection  Peiidennj^ss  thought  exceeding 
that  which  they  manifested  for  their  son's  wife  ;  and  Mrs 
Ives,  the  evening  before,  to  remove  unpleasant  thoughts,  had 
given  him  a  hvely  descripiion  of  her  person  and  character. 
The  earl's  curiosity  had  been  a  little  e>^cited  to  see  this 
paragon  of  female  beauty  and  virtue ;  and,  unlike  mosj 
cuiiosity  on  such  subjects,  he  was  agreeably  disappointed  bv 
the  examination.  He  wished  to  know  more,  and  made  iute 
rest  with  the  doctor  to  assist  him  to  continue  the  incognito 
with  which  accident  had  favored  him. 

The  doctor  objected  on  the  ground  of  principle,  and  the 
earl  desisted ;  but  the  beauty  of  Erriily,  aided  by  her  cha- 
racter, had  made  an  im[)ression  not  to  be  easily  shaken  off, 
and  Pehdennyss  returned  to  the  charge. 

His  former  jealousies  were  awakened  in  piopoition  to  his 
adnnration  ;  and,  after  some  time,  he  threw  himself  on  the 
mercy  of  the  divine,  by  declaring  his  new  motive,  but  with- 
out mentioning  his  parents.  The  doctor  pitied  liim,  for  he 
scanned  his  feelings  thoroughly,  and  consented  to  keep  silent, 
but  laughingly  declared  it  was  bad  enough  for  a  divine  to  be 
accessoiy  to,  much  less  aiding  in  a  deception  ;  and  that  he 
knew  if  Emily  and  Mrs.  Wilson  learnt  his  imposition,  ho 
would  lose  giound  in  their  favor  by  the  discovery. 

"  Surely,  George,"  said  the  doctor  with  a  laugh,  "  you 
don't  mean  to  marry  the  young  lady  as  Mr.  Denbigh  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  !  it  is  too  soon  to  think  of  marrying  her  at  all, 
replied  the  earl  with  a  smile  ;  "  but,  somehow,  I  should  like 
to  see  what  my  reception  in  the  woild  will  be  as  plain   Mr. 
Denbigh,  unprovided  for  and  unknown." 

"No  doubt,  my  lord."  said  the  rector  archly,  "in  pro- 
portion to  your  meiits,  very  unfavorably  indeed;  but   thcD 


470  PRECAUTION. 

your  humilit)  will  be  jfinally  elevated  by  the  occasional 
praises  I  have  heard  Mrs.  Wilson  lavish  on  your  proper  cha- 
racter of  late." 

"  I  am  much  indebted  to  her  partiality,"  continued  the 
earl  mournfully  ;  then  throwing  off  his  gloomy  thoughts  he 
added,  "I  yvonder,  my  dear  doctor,  your  goodness  did  not 
s  t  her  right  in  the  latter  particular." 

"  Why,  she  has  hardly  given  me  an  opportunity  ;  delicacy 
and  my  own  feelings  have  kept  me  very  silent  on  the  sub- 
ject of  your  family  to  any  of  that  connexion.  They  think,  1 
believe,  I  was  a  rector  in  Wales,  instead  of  your  father's 
chaplain ;  and  somehow,"  continued  the  doctor,  smiling  on 
his  wife,  "the  association  with  your  late  parents  was  so 
connected  in  my  mind  with  my  most  romantic  feelings,  that 
although  I  have  delighted  in  it,  I  have  seldom  alluded  to  it 
in  conversation  at  all.  Mrs.  Wilson  has  spoken  of  'you  but 
twice  in  my  hearing,  and  that  since  she  has  expected  to 
meet  you;  your  name  has  doubtless  recalled  the  remem- 
brance of  her  husband." 

"  I  have  many,  many  reasons  to  remember  the  general 
with  gratitude,"  cried  the  earl  with  fervor ;  "  but  doctor, 
do  not  forget  my  incognito :  only  call  me  George  ;  I  ask  no 
more." 

The  plan  of  Pendennyss  was  put  in  execution.  Day  after 
day  he  lingered  in  Northamptonshire,  until  his  principles  and 
character  had  grown  upon  the  esteem  of  the  Moseleys  in  the 
manner  we  have  mentioned. 

His  frequent  embarrassments  were  from  the  dread  and 
shame  of  a  detection.  With  Sir  Herbert  Nicholson  he  had  a 
narrow  escape,  and  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  and  Lord  Henry  Staple- 
ton  he  of  coui'se  avoided  ;  for  having  gone  so  fai-,  he  was 
determined  to  iicrseveie  to  the  end.  Egerton  he  thought 
knew  him,  and  he  disliked  his  character  and  roanneis. 


PUECAI'TION-.  47? 

When  Chattertoii  appeared  inost  attentive  to  Emily,  tii  . 
candor  and  good  opinion  of  that  young  nobleman  made  tlie 
earl  acquainted  with  his  wishes  and  his  situation.  Penden- 
nyss  Wiis  too  generous  not  to  meet  his  lival  on  fair  grounds. 
His  cousin  and  the  duke  were  requested  to  use  their  united 
influence  secretly  to  obtain  the  desired  station  for  the  baron. 
The  result  is  known,  and  Pendennyss  trusted  his  secret  to 
Chatterton;  he  took  him  to  London,  gave  him  in  charge  to 
Dervvent,  and  returned  to  prosecute  his  own  suit.  Ilis  note 
from  Bolton  Castle  was  a  ruse  to  conceal  his  character,  as 
he  knew  the  departure  of  the  baronet's  family  to  an  hour, 
and  had  so  timed  his  visit  to  the  earl  as  not  to  come  in 
collision  with  the  Moseleys. 

"  Indeed,  my  lord,"  cried  the  doctor  to  him  one  day, 
"  your  scheme  goes  on  swimmingly,  and  I  am  only  afraid  when 
your  mistress  discovers  the  imposition,  you  will  find  youi 
rank  producing  a,  different  effect  from  what  you  have  appr^t 
bended." 


472  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  XLYL 

But  Dr.  Ives  was  mistaken.  Had  he  seen  the  sparkling 
eyes  and  glowing  cheeks  of  Miss  Moseley,  the  smile  of  satis 
faction  and  happiness  which  played  on  the  usually  thought- 
ful face  of  Mrs.  Wilson,  when  the  earl  handed  them  into  his 
own  carriage,  as  they  left  his  house  on  the  evening  of  the 
discovery,  the  doctor  would  have  gladly  acknowledged  the 
failure  of  his  prognostics.  In  truth,  there  was  no  possi- 
ble event  that,  under  the  circumstances,  could  have  given 
both  aunt  and  niece  such  heartfelt  pleasure,  as  the  know- 
ledge that  Denbigh  and  the  earl  were  the  same  person. 

Pendennyss  stood  holding  the  door  of  the  carriage  in  his 
hand,  irresolute  how  to  act,  when  Mrs.  Wilson  said — 

"  Surely,  my  lord,  you  sup  with  us." 

"A  thousand  thanks,  my  dear  madam,  for  the  privilege," 
cried  the  earl,  as  he  sprang  into  the  coach  ;  the  door  was 
closed,  and  they  drove  off. 

"  After  the  explanations  of  this  morning,  my  lord,"  said 
Mrs.  Wilson,  willing  to  remove  all  doubts  between  him  and 
Emily,  and  perhaps  anxious  to  satisfy  her  own  curiosity,  "  it 
will  be  fastidious  to  conceal  our  desire  to  know  more  of  yoo. 
movements.  How  came  your  pocket-book  in  the  possessioi 
of  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  ?" 

"Mrs.  Fitzgerald!"   cried   Pendennyss,   in  astonishment 
*'I  lost  the  book  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  Lodge,  and  sup- 
posed it  had  fallen  into  your  hands,  and  betrayed  my  dis- 
guise by  Emily's  rejection  of  me,  and  your  own  altered  eye. 
Was  1  mistaken  then  in  both  2" 


PRECAUTION.  473 

Mrs.  "Wilson  now,  for  the  first  time,  explained  their  real 
grounds  for  refusing  his  offers,  which,  in  the  morning,  she 
had  loosely  mentioned  as  owing  to  a  misapprehension  of  his 
just  character,  and  recounted  the  manner  of  the  book  falling 
into  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Fitzgerald. 

The  earl  listened  in  amazement,  and  after  musing  with 
liimself,  exclaimed — 

"  I  remember  taking  it  from  my  pocket,  to  show  Colonel 
Egerton  some  singular  plants  I  had  gathered,  and  think  1 
first  missed  it  when  returning  to  the  place  where  I  had  then 
laid  it ;  in  some  of  the  side-pockets  were  letters  from  Marian, 
addressed  to  me,  properly;  and  I  naturally  thought  they  had 
met  your  eye." 

Mrs.  Wilson  and  Emily  immediately  thought  Egerton  the 
real  villain,  who  had  caused  both  themselves  and  Mrs.  Fitz- 
gerald so  much  uneasiness,  and  the  former  mentioned  her 
suspicions  to  the  earl. 

"  Nothing  more  probable,  dear  madam,"  cried  he,  "  and 
this  explains  to  me  his  startled  looks  when  we  first  met,  and 
his  evident  dislike  to  my  society,  for  he  must  have  seen  my 
person,  though  the  carriage  hid  him  from  my  sight." 

That  Egerton  was  the  wretch,  and  that  through  his 
agency  the  pocket-book  had  been  carried  to  the  cotiage,  they 
all  now  agreed,  and  turned  to  more  pleasant  subjects. 

"  Master  ! — here — master,"  said  Peter  Johnson,  as  he  stood 
at  a  window  of  Mr.  Benfield's  room,  stirring  a  gruel  for  the 
old  gentleman's  supper,  and  stretching  his  neck  and  strain- 
ing his  eyes  to  distinguish  objects  by  the  light  of  the  lamps 
— "  I  do  think  there  is  Mr.  Denbigh,  handing  Miss  Emmy 
from  a  coach,  covered  with  gold,  and  two  footmen,  all  dizen- 
ed  with  pride  like." 

The  spoon  fell  from  the  hands  of  Mr.  Benfield.  He  rose 
briskly  from  his  seat,  and  adjusting  his  dress,  took  the  ai-*« 


474  PRECAUTION. 

of  the  steward,  and  proceeded  to  the  drawing-room.  While 
these  several  movements  were  in  operation,  which  consumed 
Bome  time,  the  old  bachelor  relieved  the  tedium  of  Peter's 
impatience  by  the  following  speech  : — 

"  Mr.  Denbigh  ! — what,  back  ? — I  thought  he  never  could 
let  that  rascal  John  shoot  him  and  forsake  Emmy  after  all; 
(here  the  old  gentleman  suddenly  recollected  Denbigh's  mar- 
riage) but  now,  Peter,  it  can  do  no  good  either. —  I  remem- 
ber, that  when  my  friend  the  Earl  of  Gosford  " — (and  again 
he  was  checked  by  the  image  of  the  card-table  and  the 
viscountess)  "  but,  Peter,"  he  said  with  great  warmth,  "  we 
can  go  down  and  see  him,  notwithstanding." 

"  Mr.  Denbigh  !"  exclaimed  Sir  Edward,  in  astonishment, 
•when  he  saw  the  companion  of  his  sister  and  child  enter  the 
drawing-room,  "you  are  welcome  once  more  to  your  old 
friends :  your  sudden  retreat  from  us  gave  us  much  pain ; ' 
but  we  suppose  Lady  Laura  had  too  many  attractions  to 
allow  us  to  keep  you  any  longer  in  Norfolk."  - 

The  good  Baronet  sighed,  as  he  held  out  his  hand  to  the 
man  whom  he  had  once  hoped  to  receive  as  a  son. 

"Neither  Lady  Laura  nor  any  other  lady,- my  dear  Sir 
Edward,"  cried  the  earl,  as  he  took  the  baronet's  hand, 
"  drove  me  from  you,  but  the  frowns  of  your  own  fair  daugh- 
ter ;  and  here  she  is,  ready  to  acknowledge  her  ofience,  and, 
I  hope,  to  atone  for  it." 

John,  who  knew  of  the  refusal  of  his  sister,  and  was  not  a 
ittle  displeased  with  the  cavalier  treatment  he  had  received 
at  Denbigh's  hands,  felt  indignant  at  such  improper  levity  in 
a  married  man,  and  approached  with — 

"  Your  servant,  Mr.  Denbigh — I  hope  my  Lady  Laura  is 
well." 

Pendennyss  understood  his  look,  and  replied  very  gravely— 

"  Your  servant,  Mr.  John  Moseley — my  Lady  Laura  is,  or 


PRECAUTION.  475 

certainly  ought  to  be,  very  well,  as  she  has  this  moment 
gone  to  a  rout,  accompanied  by  her  husband." 

The  quick  eye  of  John  glanced  Irom  the  earl  to  his  aunt, 
to  Emily;  a  lurking- smile  was  on  all  their  features.  The 
heightened  color  of  his  sister,  the  flashing  eyes  of  the  young 
nobleman,  the  face-  of  his  aunt,  all  told  him  that  something 
uncommon  was  about  to  be  explained ;  and,  yielding  to  his 
feelings,  he  caught  the  hand  which  Pendcnnyss  extended  to 
him,  and  cried, 

"  Denbigh,  I  see — I  feel — there  is  some  unaccountable 
mistake — we  are — " 

"  Brothers  !"  said  the  earl,  emphatically.  "  Sir  Edward — 
dear  Lady  Moseley,  I  throw  myself  on  your  mercy.  I  am 
an  impostor  :  when  your  hospitality  received  me  into  your 
house,  it  is  true  you  admitted  George  Denbigh,  but  he  is 
better  known  as  the  Earl  of  Pendennyss." 

"  The  Earl  of  Pendennyss  !"  exclaimed  Lady  Moseley,  in  a 
glow  of  delight,  as  she  saw  at  once  through  some  juvenile 
folly  a  deception  which  promised  both  happiness  and  rank 
to  one  of  her  children.  "Is  it  possible,  my  dear  Charlotte, 
that  this  is  your"  unknown  friend  ?" 

"  The  very  same,  Anne,"  replied  the  smiling  widow,  "  and 
guilty  of  a  folly  that,  at  all  events,  removes  the  distance 
between  us  a  little,  by  showing  that  he  is  subject  to  the 
failings  of  mortality.  But  the  masquerade  is  ended,  and  I 
hope  you  and  Edward  will  not  only  treat  him  as  an  earl,  but 
receive  him  as  a  son." 

"Most  willingly — most  willingly,"  cried  the  baronet,  with 
great  energy ;  "be  he  prince,  peer,  or  beggar,  he  is  the 
preserver  of  my  child,  and  as  such  he  is  always  welcome." 

The  door  now  slowly  opened,  and  the  vererable  bacheloi 
appeared  on  its  thresnold. 

Pendennyss,  ^  who    had    never   forgotten   the   good    will 


476  PRECAUTION. 

manifested  to  Lim  by  Mr.  Benfield,  met  him  with  a  look  of 
pleasure,  as  he  expressed  his  happiness  at  seeing  him  again 
in  London. 

"  I  never  have  forgotten  your  goodness  in  sendmg  honest 
Peter  such  a  distance  from  home,  on  the  object  of  his 
visit.  I  now  regret  that  a  feeling  of  shame  occasioned  my 
answering  your  kindness  so  laconically :"  turning  to  Mrs 
Wilson,  he  added,  "  for  a  time  I  knew  not  how  to  write  a 
letter  even,  being  afraid  to  sign  my  proper  appellation,  and 
ashamed  to  use  my  adopted." 

"  Mr.  Denbigh,  I  am  happy  to  see  you.  I  did  send  Peter, 
it  is  true,  to  London,  on  a  message  to  you — but  it  is  all 
over  now,"  the  old  man  sighed — "  Peter,  however,  escaped 
the  snares  of  this  wicked  place;  and  if  you  are  happy,  I 
am  content.     I  remember  wlien  the  Earl  of — " 

"  Pendennyss !"  exclaimed  the  other,  "  imposed  on  the 
hospitality  of  a  worthy  man,  under  an  assumed  appellation, 
in  order  to  pry  into  the  character  of  a  lovely  female,  who 
was  only  too  good  for  him,  and  who  now  is  willing  to  forget 
his  follies,  and  make  him  not  only  the  happiest  of  men,  but 
the  nephew  of  Mr.  Benfield." 

During  this  speech,  the  countenance  of  Mr.  Benfield  had 
manifested  evident  emotion  :  he  looked  from  one  to  another, 
until  he  saw  Mrs.  Wilson  smiling  near  him.  Pointing  to 
the  earl  with  his  finger,  he  stood  unable  to  speak,  as  shf> 
answered  simply, — 

"  Lord  Pendennyss." 

"  And  Emmy  dear — will  you — will  you  marry  him  ?' 
cried  Mr.  Benfield,  suppressing  his  feelings,  to  give  utteranc( 
to  his  question. 

Emily  felt  for  her  uncle,  and  blushing  deeply,  with  great 
Ii-ankness  she  put  her  hand  in  that  of  the  earl,  who  pres^'td 
it  with  rapture  again  and  again  to  his  lips. 


PRECAUTION.  477 

Mr.  Benfield  sank  into  a  chair,  and  with  a  heart  softened 
by  emotion,  burst  into  tears. 

"  Peter,"  he  cried,  struggling  with  his  feelings,  "  I  am 
now  ready  to  depart  in  peace — I  shall  see  my  darling 
Emmy  happy,  and  to  her  care  I  shall  commit  you." 

Emily,  deeply  aftected  with  his  love,  threw  herself  into 
his  arms  in  a  torrent  of  tears,  and  was  removed  from  them 
by  Pendennyss,  in  consideration  for  the  feelings  of  both. 

Jane  felt  no  emotions  of  envy  for  her  sister's  happiness ; 
on  the  contrary,  she  rejoiced  in  common  with  the  rest  of 
their  friends  in  her  brightening  prospects,  and  they  all  took 
their  seats  at  the  supper  table,  as  happy  a  group  as  was 
contained  in  the  wide  circle  of  the  metropohs.  A  few  more 
particulars  served  to  explain  the  mystery  sufficiently,  until  a 
more  fitting  opportunity  made  them  acquainted  with  the 
whole  of  the  earl's  proceedings. 

"  My  Lord  Pendennyss,"  said  Sir  Edward,  pouring  out  a 
glass  of  wine,  and  passing  the  bottle  to  his  neighbor :  "  I 
drink  your  health — and  happiness  to  yourself  and  my 
darling  child." 

The  toast  was  drunk  by  all  the  family,  and  the  earl 
replied  to  the  compliments  with  his  thanks  and  smiles,  while 
Emily  could  only  notice  them  with  her  blushes  and  tears. 

But  this  was  an  opportunity  not  to  be  lost  by  the  honest 
steward,  who,  from,  affection  and  long  services,  had  been 
indulged  in  familiarities  exceeding  any  other  of  his  master's 
establishment.  He  very  deliberately  helped  himself  to  a 
glass  of  wine,  and  drawing  near  the  seat  of  the  bride-elect, 
with  an  humble  reverence,  commenced  his  speech  as 
follows : 

"  My  dear  Miss  Emmy  : — Here's  hoping  you'll  live  to  be 
a  comfort  to  your  honored  father,  and  your  honored  mother, 
and  my  dear  honored  master,  and  yourself,  and   Madam 


478  PRECAUTION. 

Wilson."  The  steward  paused  to  clear  nis  voice,  and  profit- 
ed bj-  the  delay  to  cast  his  eye  round  the  table  to  collect 
the  names ;  "  and  Mr.  John  Moseley,  and  sweet  Mrs. 
Moseley,  and  pretty  Miss  Jane"  (Peter  had  lived  too  long 
in  the  world  to  compliment  one  handsome  woman  in  the 
presence  of  another,  without  the  qualifying  his  speech  a 
ittle).;  "  and  Mr.  Lord  Denbigh — earl  like,  as  they  say  he 
now  is,  and" — Peter  stopped  a  moment  to  deliberate,  and 
then  making  another  reverence,  he  put  the  glass  to  his  lip^; 
but  before  he  had  got  half  through  its  contents,  recollected 
himself,  and  replenishing  it  to  the  brim,  with  a  smile 
acknowledging  his  forgetfulness,  continued,  "  and  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Francis  Ives,  and  the  Rev.  Mrs.  Francis  Ives." 

Here  the  unrestrained  laugh  of  John  interrupted  him  ; 
and  considering  with  himself  that  he  had  included  the 
whole  family,  he  finished  his  bumper.  Whether  it.  was 
pleasure  at  his  own  eloquence  in  venturing  on  so  long  a 
speech,  or  the  unusual  allowance,  that  affected  the  steward, 
he  was  evidently  much  satisfied  with  himself,  and  stepped 
back  behind  his  master's  chair,  in  great  good  humor. 

Emily,  as  she  thanked  him,  noticed  a  tear  in  the  eye  of 
the  old  man,  as  he  concluded  his  oration,  that  would  have 
excused  a  thousand  breaches  of  fastidious  ceremony.  But 
Pendennyss  rose  from  his  seat,  and  took  him  kindly  by  the 
hand,  and  returned  his  own  thanks  for  his  good  wishes. 

"  I  owe  you  much  good  will,  Mr.  Johnson,  for  your  two 
journeys  in  my  behalf,  and  trust  I  never  shall  forget  the 
manner  in  which  you  executed  your  last  mission  in  particu- 
lar.    We  are  friends,  I  trust,  for  life." 

"  Thank  you — thank  your  honor's  lordship,"  said  the 
steward,  almost  unable  to  utter ;  "  I  hope  you  may  live 
long,  to  make  dear  little  Miss  Emmy  as  happy — as  I  know 
fihe  ought  to  be." 


PRECAUTION.  479 

"But  really,  my  lord,"  cried  John,  observing  that  the 
steward's  affection  for  his  sister  had  affected  her  to  tears, 
"  it  was  a  singular  circumstance,  the  meeting  of  the  four 
passengers  of  the  stage  so  soon  at  your  hotel." 

Moseley  explained  his  meaning  to  the  rest  of  the  company, 

"  Not  so  much  so  as  you  imagine,"  said  the  earl  in 
reply  ;  •"  yourself  and  Johnson  were  in  quest  of  me.  Lord  Henry 
^Hapleton  was  under  an  engagement  to  meet  me  that  evening 
at  the  hotel,  as  we  were  both  going  to  his  sister's  wedding — I 
having  arranged  the  thing  with  him  by  letter  previously ; 
and  General  M'Carty  was  also  in  search  of  me,  on  busi- 
ness relating  to  his  niece,  the  Donna  Julia.  He  had  been 
to  Annerdale  House,  and,  through  my  servants,  heard  I  was 
at  an  hotel.  It  was  the  first  interview  between  us,  and  not 
quite  as  amicable  a  one  as  has  since  been  had  in  Wales. 
During  my  service  in  Spain,  I  saw  the  Conde,  but  not  the 
general.  The  letter  he  gave  me  was  from  the  Spanish 
ambassador,  claiming  a  right  to  require  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  from 
our  government,  and  deprecating  my  using  an  influence  to 
counteract  his  exertions" — 

"  Which  you  refused,"  said  Emily,  eagerly. 

"  Not  refused,"  answered  the  earl,  smihng  at  her  warmth, 
while  he.  admired  her  friendly  zeal,  "  for  it  was  unnecessary: 
there  is  no  such  power  vested  in  the  ministry.  But  I  ex- 
plicitly told  the  general,  I  would  oppose  any  violent  measures 
to  restore  her  to  her  country  and  a  convent.  From  the 
courts,  I  apprehended  nothing  for  my  fair  friend." 

"Your  honor — my  lord,"  said  Peter,  who  had  been 
listening  with  great  attention,  "  if  I  may  presume  just  to  ask 
two  questions,  without  oftence." 

"Say  on,  my  good  friend,"  said  Pendennyss,  with  an 
encouraging  smile. 

"  Only  "  continued  the  steward — hemming,  to  give  propel 


480  PRECAUTION. 

Utterance  to  his  thoughts — "  I  wish  to  know,  whether  you 
stayed  in  that  same  street  after  you  left  the  hotel — for  Mr, 
John  Moseley  and  I  had  a  slight  difference  in  opinion  about 
it." 

The  earl  smiled,  having  caught  the  arch  expression  of 
John,  and  replied — 

"  I  believe  I  owe  you  an  apology,  Moseley,  for  my  cavalief 
treatment;  but  guilt  makes  us  all  cowards.  I  found  you 
were  ignorant  of  my  incognito,  and  I  was  equally  ashamed 
to  continue  it,  or  to  become  the  relater  of  my  own  folly. 
Indeed,"  he  continued,  smiling  on  Emily  as  he  spoke,  "I 
thought  your  sister  had  pronounced  the  opinion  of  all  reflect- 
ing people  on  my  conduct.  I  went  out  of  town,  Johnson, 
at  day -break.     What  is  the  other  query?" 

"  Why,  my  lord,"  said  Peter,  a  little  disappointed  at  find- 
ing his  first  surmise  untrue,  "  that  outlandish  tongue  your 
honor  used — " 

"  Was  Spanish,"  cried  the  earl. 

"And  not  Greek,  Peter,"  said  his  master,  gravely.  "I 
thought,  from  the  words  you  endeavored  to  repeat  to  me, 
that  you  had  made  a  mistake.  You  need  not  be  disconcerted, 
however,  for  I  know  several  members  of  the  parliament  of 
this  realm  who  could  not  talk  the  Greek  language,  that  is, 
fluently.  So  it  can  be  no  disgrace  to  a  serving-man  to  be 
ignorant  of  it." 

Somewhat  consoled  to  find  himself  as  well  off  as  the 
representatives  of  his  country,  Peter  resumed  his  station  n 
silence,  when  the  carriages  began  to  announce  the  return  from 
the  opera.  The  earl  took  his  leave,  and  the  party  retired  to 
rest. 

The  thanksgivings  of  Emily  that  night,  ere  she  laid  hei 
head  on  her  pillow,  were  the  purest  offering  of  mortal  inne- 
cence.     The  prospect  before  her  was  unsullied  by  a  cloud, 


PHECAUIION.  481 

Shiid  she  poured  out  Iier  heart  in  tlie  fullest  confidence  of 
pious  love  and  heartfelt  gratitude. 

As  early  on  the  succeeding  morning  as  good-breeding 
would  allow,  and  much  earlier  than  the  hour  sanctioned  by 
fashion,  the  earl  and  Lady  Marian  stopped  in  the  carnage  of 
the  latter  at  the  door  of  Sir  Edward  Moseley.  Their  recep 
tion  was  the  most  flattering  that  could  be  offered  to  people 
of  their  stamp  ;  sincere,  cordial,  and,  with  a  trifling  exception 
in  Lady  Moseley,  unfettered  with  any  useless  ceremonies. 

Emily  felt  herself  drawn  to  her  new  acquaintance  with  a 
fondness  which  doubtless  grew  out  of  her  situation  with  her 
brother ;  which  soon  found  reasons  enough  in  the  soft,  lady- 
like, and  sincere  manners  of  Lady  Marian,  to  justify  her 
attachment  on  her  own  account. 

There  was  a  very  handsome  suite  of  drawing-rooms  in 
Sir  Edward's  house,  and  the  communicating  doors  were 
carelessly  open.  Curiosity  to  view  the  furniture,  or  some 
such  trifling  reasons,  induced  the  earl  to  find  his  way  into 
the  one  adjoining  that  in  which  the  family  were  seated.  It 
was  unquestionably  a  dread  of  being  lost  in  a  strange  house, 
that  induced  him  to  whisper  a  request  to  the  blushing  Emily, 
to  be  his  companion  ;  and  lastly,  it  must  have  been  nothing 
but  a  knowledge  that  a  vacant  room  was  easier  viewed  than 
one  filled  with  company,  that  prevented  any  one  from  follow 
ing  tbem.  John  smiled  archly  at  Grace,  doubtless  in  appro- 
bation of  the  comfortable  time  his  friend  was  likely  to  enjoy, 
in  his  musings  on  the  taste  of  their  mother.  How  the  dooi 
became  shut,  we  have  ever  been  at  a  loss  to  imagine. 

The  company  without  were  too  good-natured  and  well 
satisfied  with  each  other  to  miss  the  absentees,  until  the 
figure  of  the  earl  appeared  at  the  reopened  door,  beckoning, 
with  a  face,  of  rapture,  to  Lady  Moseley  and  Mrs.  Wilson. 
Sir  Edward  next  disappeared,  then  Jane,  then  Grace — then 


482  PEECAUTION. 

Marian;  until  John  began  to  think  a  tete-a-tete  with  Mi 
Benfield  was  to  be  his  morning's  amusement. 

The  lovely  countenance  of  his  wife,  however,  soon  relieved 
his  ennui,  and  John's  curiosity  was  gratified  by  an  order  to 
prepare  for  his  sister's  wedding  the  following  week. 

Emily  might  have  blushed  more  than  common  during  this 
interview,  but  it  is  certain  she  did  not  smile  less ;  and  the 
earl.  Lady  Marian  assured  Sir  Edward,  was  so  very  different 
a  creature  from  y/hat  he  had  recently  been,  that  she  could 
hardly  think  it  was  the  same  sombre  gentleman  with  whom 
she  had  passed  the  last  few  months  in  Wales  and  West- 
moreland. 

A  messenger  was  dispatched  for  Dr.  Ives  and  their  friends 

at  B ,  to  be  witnesses  to  the  approaching  nuptials  ;  and 

Lady  Moseley  at  length  found  an   opportunity  of  indulging 
her  taste  for  splendor  on  this  joyful  occasion. 

Money  was  no  consideration  ;  and  Mr.  Benfield  absolutely 
pined  at  the  thought  that  the  great  wealth  of  the  earl  put 
it  out  of  his  power  to  contribute  in  any  manner  to  the 
comfort  of  his  Emmy.  However,  a  fifteenth  codicil  was 
framed  by  the  ingenuity  of  Peter  and  his  master,  and  if  it 
did  not  contain  the  name  of  George  Denbigh,  it  did  that  of 
his  expected  second  son,  Roderick  Benfield  Denbigh,  to  the 
qualifying  circumstance  of  twenty  thousand  pounds,  as  a 
bribe  for  the  name. 

"  And  a  very  pretty  child,  I  dare  say,  it  will  be,"  said  the 
steward,  as  he  placed  the  paper  in  its  repository.  "  T  don't 
know  that  I  ever  saw,  your  honor,  a  couple  that  I  thought 
would  make  a  handsomer  pair  Hke,  except — "  Peter's  mind 
dwelt  on  his  own  youthful  form  coupled  with  the  smiling 
graces  of  Patty  Steele. 

"  Yes !  they  are  as  handsome  as  they  are  good !"  replied 
bis  master.     "  I  remember  now,  when  our  Speaker  took  hii 


PRECAUTION.  ISS 

third  wife,  the  world  said  that  they  were  as  pretty  a  couple 
as  there  was  at  court.     But  my  Emma  and  the  earl  will  be  a 
much  finer  pair.     Oh  !  Peter  Johnson  ;  they  are  young,  and 
rich,  and  beloved ;  but,  after  all,  it  avails  but  little  if  they  b 
not  good." 

"  Good !"  cried  the  steward  in  astonishment ;  "  they  ar 
8  good  as  angels." 

The   master's  ideas  of  human  excellence  had  sufi'ered 
heavy  blow  in  the  view  of  his  viscountess,  but  he  answered 
mildly,  ^ 

"  As  good  as  mankind  can  well  be." 


4S4  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  XLYIL 

The  warm  weather  »had  now  commenced,  and  Sir  Edward, 
tmwilliiig  to  be  shut  lip  in  London  at  a  tiiYie  the  appearance 
of  vegetation  gave  the  country  a  new  interest,  and  accus- 
tomed for  many  years  of  his  life  to  devote  an  hour  in  his 
garden  each  morn,  had  takf;n  a  little  ready  furnished  cottage 
a  shprt  ride  from  his  residence,  with  the  intention  of  frequent- 
ing it  until  after  the  birthday.  Thither  then  Pendennyss 
took  his  bride  from  the  altar,  and  a  few  days  were  passed  by 
the  newly  married  pair  in  this  little  asylum. 

Doctor  Ives,  with  Francis,  Clara,  and  their  mother,  had 
obeyed  the  summons  with  an  alacrity  in  proportion  to  the 
joy  they  felt  on  receiving  it,  and  the  former  had  the  happi- 
ness of  officiating  on  the  occasion.  It  would  have  been  easy 
for  the  wealth  of  the  earl  to  procure  a  license  to  enable  them 
10  marry  in  the  drawing-room  ;  the  permission  was  obtained, 
but  neither  Emily  nor  himself  felt  a  wish  to  utter  their  vows 
in  any  other  spot  than  at  the  altar,  and  in  the  house  of  their 
Maker. 

If  there  was  a  single  heart  that  felt  the  least  emotion  of 
regret  or  uneasiness,,  it  was  Lady  Moseley,  who  little  relished 
the  retirement  of  the  cottage  on  so  joyful  an  occasion;  but 
Pendennyss   silenced    her    objections    by   good-humoredly. 
replying — 

"  The  fates  have  been  so  kind  to  me,  in  giving  me  castles 
and  seats,  you  ought  to  allow  me,  my  dear  Lady  Moseley,  the 
only  opportunity  I  shall  probably  ever  have  of  enjoying  love 
An  a  cottage." 


PRECAUTION.  485 

A  few  days,  however,  removed  the  uneasiness  of  the  good 
matron,  who  had  the  felicity  within  the  week  of  seeing  her 
daughter  initiated  mistress  of  Annerdale  House. 

The  m^orning  of  their  return  to  this  noble  mansion  the  earl 
presented  himself  in  St.  James's. Square,  with  the  intelligence 
of  their  arrival,  ^nd  smiling  as  he  bowed  to  Mrs.  Wilson,  he 
continued— T 

"  And  to  escort  you,  dear  madam,  to  your  new  abode." 

Mrs.  Wilson  started  with  surprise,  and  with  a  heart  beating 
quick  with  emotion,  she  requiied  an  explanation  of  his 
words. 

"  Surely,  dearest  Mrs.  Wilson — more  than  aunt — my  mo- 
ther— you  cannot  mean,  after  having  trained  my  Emily  through 
infancy  to  maturity  in  the  paths  of  duty,  to  desert  her  in  the 
moment  of  her  greatest  trial.  I  am  the  pupil  of  your  hus- 
band," he  continued,  taking  her  hands  in  his  own  with  reve- 
rence and  affection  ;  "we  are  the  children  of  your  joint  care, 
and  one  home,  as  there  is  but  one  heart,  must  in  future  con- 
tain us." 

Mrs.  Wilson  had  wished  for,  but  hardly  dared  to  expect 
this  invitation.  It  was  now  urged  from  the  right  quarter, 
and  in  a  manner  that  was  as  sincere  as  it  was  gratifying. 
Unable  to  conceal  her  tears,  the  good  widow  pressed  the 
hand  of  Pendennyss  to  her  lips  as  she  murmured  out  her 
thanks.  Sir  Edward  was  prepared  also  to  lose  his  sister ; 
but  unwilling  to  relinquish  the  pleasure  of  her  society,  he 
urged  her  making  a  common  residence  between  the  two 
families. 

"  Pendennyss  has  spoken  truth,  my  dear  brother,"  cried 
she,  "recovering  her  voice  ;  '•  Emily  is  the  child  of  my  care 
and  my  love — the  two  beings  I  love  best  in  this  world  are 
now  united — but,"  she  added,  pressing  Lady  Moseley  to  her 
J)()Sora.  "  my  heart  is  large  enough  for  you  all ;  you  are  of 


486  PRECAUTION-. 

my  blood,  and  my  gratitude  for  your  affection  is  bcwndless. 
There  shall  be  but  one  large  family  of  us ;  and  although  our 
duties  may  sepai'ate  us  for  a  time,  we  will,  I  trust,  ever  meet 
n  tenderness  and  love,  though  with  George  and  Emily  I  will 
take  up  my  abode." 

"I  hope  your  house  in  Northamptonshire  is  not  to  be 
vacant  always,"  said  Lady  Moseley  to  the  earl,  anxiously. 

"  I  have  no  house  there,  my  dear  madam,"  he  replied  ; 
"  when  I  thought  my§elf  about  to  succeed  in  my  suit  before, 
I  directed  a  lawyer  at  Bath,  where  Sir  William  Harris  resided 
most  of  his  time,  to  endeavor  to  purchase  the  deanery,  when 
ever  a  good  opportunity  offered:  in  my  discomfiture,"  he 
added,  smiling,  "  I  forgot  to  countermand  the  order,  and  he 
purchased  it  immediately  on  its  being  advertised.  For  a 
short  time  it  was  an  incumbrance  to  ine,  but  it  is  now  applied 
to  its  original  purpose.  It  is  the  sole  property  of  the  Coun- 
tess of  Pendennyss,  and  I  doubt  not  you  will  see  it  often  and 
agreeably  tenanted." 

This  intelligence  gave  great  satisfaction  to  his  friends,  and 
the  expected  summer  restored  to  even  Jane  a  gleam  of  her 
former  pleasure. 

If  there  be  bliss  in  this  life,  approaching  in  any  degree  to 
the  happiness  of  the  blessed,  it  is  the  fruition  of  long  and 
ardent  love,  where  youth,  innocence,  piety,  and  family  con- 
cord, smile  upon  the  union.  And  all  these  were  united  in 
he  case  of  the  new-married  pair ;  but  happiness  in  this 
vrorld  cannot  or  does  not,  in  any  situation,  exist  without 
Hoy. 

The  peace  of  mind  and  fortitude  of  Emily  were  fated  k 
eceive  a  blow,  as  unlooked  for  to  herself  as  it  was  unex- 
pected to  the  world.  Bonaparte  appeared  in  France,  and 
Europe  became  in  motion. 

From  the  moment  the  earl  heard  the  intelligence  his  own 


PKKCAUTION.  487 

course  was  decided.  His  regiment  was  the  pride  of  the 
army,  ^nd  that  it  would  be  ordered  to  join  the  dflke  he  did  not 
entertain  a  doubt. 

Emily  was,  therefore,  in.  some  little  measure  prepared  for 
the  blow.  It  is  at  such  moments  as  our  own  acts,  or  events 
affecting  us,  get  to  be  without  our  control,  that  faith  in  the 
justice  and  benevolence  of  God  is  the  most  serviceable  to  tl  e 
Christian.  When  others  spend  their  time  in  useless  regrets 
he  is  piously  resigned :  it  even  so  happens,  that  when  others 
mourn  he  can  rejoice. 

The  sound  of  the  bugle,  wildly  winding  its  notes,  broke  on 
the  stillness  of  the  morning  in  the  little  village  in  which  was 
situated  the  cottage  tenanted  by  Sir  Edward  Moseley.  Al- 
most concealed  by  the  shrubbery  which  surrounded  its  piazza, 
stood  the  forms  of  the  Countess  of  Pendennyss  and  her  sister 
Lady  Marian,  watching  eagerly  the  appearance  of  those 
whose  approach  was  thus  announced. 

The  carriage  of  the  ladies,  with  its  idle  attendants,  was  in 
w^aiting  at  a  short  distance ;  and  the  pale  face  but  composed 
resignation  of  its  mistress,  indicated  a  struggle  between  con- 
flicting duties. 

File  after  file  of  heavy  horse  passed  them  in  military  pomp, 
and  the  wistful  gaze  of  the  two  females  had  scanned  them  in 
vain  for  the  well  known,  much-beloved  countenance  of  the 
leader.  At  length  a  single  horseman  approached .  them, 
viding  deliberately  and  musing  :  their  forms  met  his  eye,  and 
111  an  instant  Emily  was  pressed  to  the  bosom  of  her  hus- 
band. 

"  It  is  the  doom  of  a  soldier,"  said  the  earl,  dashing  a  tear 
from  his  eye ;  "  I  had  hoped  that  the  peace  of  the  world 
would  not  again  be  assailed  for  years,  and  that  ambition  and 
jealousy  would  yield  a  respite  to  our  bloody  profession  ;  but 
cheer  up,  my  love — hope  for  the  best— your  trust  is  not  in 


488  PRECAXTTION. 

the  things  of  this  hfe,  and  your  happiness  is  without  tii6 
power  of  mati." 

"Ah!  Pendennyss — my  husband,"  sobbed  Emily,  sinking 
on  his  bosom,  "  take  with  you  my  prayers — my  love — every- 
thing that  can  console  you — everything  that  may  profit  you. 
I  will  not  tell  you  to  be  careful  of  your  life ;.  your  duty 
teaches  you  that.  •  As  a  soldier,  expose  it ;  as  a  husband 
guard  it ;  and  return  to  me  as  you  leave  me,  a  lover,  the 
dearest  of  men,  and  a  Christian." 

Unwilling  to  prolong  the  pain  of  parting,  the  earl  gave  his 
wife  a  last  embrace,  held  Marian  affectionately  to  his  bosom, 
and  mounting  his  horse,  was  out  of  sight  in  an  instant. 

Within  a  few  days  of  the  departure  of  Pendennyss,  Chat- 
terton  was  surprised  with  the  entrance  of  his  mother  and 
Catharine.  His  reception  of  them  was  that  of  a  respectful* 
child,  and  his  wife  exerted  herself  to  be  kind  to  connexions 
she  could  not  love,  in  order  to  give  pleasure  to  a  husband 
she  adored.  Their  tale  was  soon  told.  Lord  and  Lady 
Herriefield  were  separated ;  and  the  dowager,  alive  to  the 
dangers  of  a  young  woman  in  Catharine's  situation,  and 
without  a  single  principle  on  which  to  rest  the  assurance 
of  her  blameless  conduct  in  future,  had  brouglit  her  to  Eng- 
land, in  order  to  keep  off  disgrace,  by  residing  with  hei 
child  herself. 

There  was  nothing  in  his  wife  to  answer  the  expectations 
with  which  Lord  Herriefield  married.  She  had  beauty,  bu 
with  that  he  was  already  sated  ;  her  simplicity,  which,  by 
having  her  attention  drawn  elsewhere,  had  at  first  charmed 
him,  F^s  succeeded  by  the  knowing  conduct  of  a  deter- 
mined follower  of  the  fashions,  and  a  decided  \voman  of  the 
world. 

It  had  never  struck  the  viscount  as  iin])Ossible  that  an 
artless  and  innocent  (;iil  \vt>u1d   fall    in  Une  with   hi<  fiided 


PRECAUTION.  489 

and  bilious  face,  but  the  moment  Catharine  betrayed  the 
arts  of  a  manager,  he  saw  at  once  the  artifice  that  had  been 
practised  ;  of  course  he  ceased  to  love  her. 

Men  are  flattered  for  a  season  with  notice  that  has  been 
unsought,  but  it  never  fails  to  injure  the  woman  who  prac- 
tises it  in  the  opinion  of  the  other  sex,  in  time.  Without  a 
single  feeling  in  common,  without  a  regard  to  anything  but 
self,  in  either  husband  or  wife,  it  could  not  but  happen  that 
a  separation  must  follow,  or  their  days  be  spent  in  wrangling 
and  misery.  Catharine  willingly  left  her  husband  ;  her  hus- 
band more  willingly  got  rid  of  her. 

During  all  these  movements  the  dowager  had  a  difficult 
game  to  play.  ,It  was  unbecoming  her  to  encourage  the 
strife,  and  it  was  against  her  wishes  to  suppress  it ;  she 
therefore  moralized  with  the  peer,  and  frowned  upon  her 
daughter. 

The  viscount  listened  to  her  truisms  with  the  attention  of 
a  boy  who  is  told  by  a  drunken  father  how  wicked  it  is  to 
love  liquor,  and  heeded  them  about  as  much  ;  while  Kate, 
mistress  at  all  events  of  two  thousand  a  year,  minded  her 
mother's  frowns  as  little  as  she  regarded  her  .smiles  ;  both 
were  indifferent  to  her. 

A  few  days  after  the  ladies  left  Lisbon,  the  viscount  pro- 
ceeded to  Italy  in  company  with  the  repudiated  wife  of  a 
British  naval  officer ;  and  if  Kate  was  not  guilty  of  an  offence 
of  equal  magnitude,  it  was  more  owing  to  her  mother's  pie 
sent  vigilance  than  to  her  previous  care. 

The  presence  of  Mrs.  Wilson  vvas  a  great  source  of  con- 
eolation  to  Emily  in  the  absence  of  her  husband  ;  and  as 
their  longer  abode  in  town  was  useless,  the  countess  declining 
to  be  presented  without  the  earl,  the  whole  family  decided 
upon  a  return  into  Northamptonshire. 

The  deanery  had  been  furnished  by  order  of  Pendennyss 
21* 


4^0  PRECAUTION. 

immediately  on  his  marriage ;  and  its  mistruss  hastened  to 
take  possession  of  her  new  dwelling.  The  jimusement  and 
occupation  of  this  movement,  the  planning  ol  little  improve- 
ments, her  various  duties  under  her  increased  responsibilities, 
kept  Emily  from  dwelling  unduly  upon  the  danger  of  her 
husband.  She  sougiit  out  amongst  the  first  objects  of  her 
bounty  the  venerable  peasant  whose  loss  had  been  formerly 

supplied   by   Pendennyss  on  his   first  visit  to  13 ,  after 

the  death  of  his  father.  There  might  not  have  been  the 
usual  discrimination  and  tempoial  usefulness  in  this  instance 
which  generally  accompanied  her  benevolent  acts  ;  but  it 
was  associat^e^  with  the  image  of  her  husband,  and  it  could 
excite  no  surprise  in  Mrs.  Wilson,  although  it  did  in  Marian, 
to  see  her  sister  driving  two  or  three  times  a  week  to  relieve 
the  necessities  of  a  man  who  appeared  actually  to  be  in  want 
of  nothing. 

Sir  Edward  was  again  amongst  those  he  loved,  and  his 
hospitable  board  was  once  more  surrounded  with  the  faces 
of  his  friends  and  neighbors.  The  good-natured  Mr.  Haugh- 
ton  was  always  a  welcome  guest  at  the  hall,  and  met,  soon 
after  their  retuin,  the  collected  ftimily  of  the  baronet,  at  a 
dinner  given  by  the  latter  to  his  children  and  one  or  two  of 
his  most  intimate  neighbors — 

''  My  Lady  Pendennyss,"  cried  Mr.  Haughton,  in  the 
cou.rse  of  the  afternoon,  "  I  have  news  from  the  earl,  which 
I  know  it  will  do  your  heart  good  to  hear.'' 

Emily  smiled  at  the  prospect  of  hearing  in  any  manner 
of  her  husband,  although  she  internally  questioned  the 
probability  of  Mr.  Haughton's  knowing  anything  of  his 
movements,  of  which  ber  daily  letters  did  not  apprise  her. 

Will  you   favor  me  with  the   particulars  of  your  intelli- 
gence, sir  ?"  said  the  countess. 

""  He  has  arrived  safe  witli  his  legiment  near  Brussels  ;  ] 


PRECAUTION.  491 

heard  it  from  a  neighbor's  son  who  saw  him  enter  the  house 
occupied  by  Wellington,  while  he  was  standing  in  the  crowd 
without,  waiting  to  get  a  peep  at  the  duke." 

"  Oh  !"  said  Mrs.  Wilson  with  a  laugh,  "  Emily  knew  that 
ten  days  ago.  Could  your  friend  tell  us  anything  of  Bona- 
parte? we  are  much  interested  in  his  movements  just  now," 

Mr.  Haughton,  a  good  deal  mortified  to  find  his  news 
sale,  mused  a  moment,  as  if  in  doubt  to  proceed  or  not; 
but  liking  of  all  things  to  act  the  part  of  a  newspaper,  he 
continued — 

"  Nothing  piore  than  you  see  in  the  prints  ;  but  I  suppose 
your  ladyship  has  heard  about  Captain  Jarvis  too  ?" 

"  Why,  no,"  said  Emily,  laughing  ;  "  the  movements  of 
Captain  Jarvis  are  not  quite  as  interesting  to  me  as  those  of 
Lord  Pendennyss — has  the  duke  made  him  an  aide-de-camp  ?" 

*'  Oh  !  no,"  cried  the  other,  exulting  at  his  having  some- 
thing new :  ^'  as  soon  as  he  heard  of  the  return  of  Boney, 
he  threw  up  his  commission  and  got  married." 

*'  Married  !"  cried  John ;  "  not  to  Miss  Harris,  surely." 

"  No ;  to  a  silly  girl  he  met  in  Cornwall,  who  was  fool 
enough  to  be  caught  with  his  gold  lace.  He  married  one 
day,  and  the  next  told  his  disconsolate  wife  and  panic-stricken 
mother  that  the  honor  of  the  Jarvises  must  sleep  until  the 
supporters  of  the  name  became  sufficiently  numerouis  to  risk 
them  in  the  field  of  battle." 

"  And  how  did  Mrs.  Jai'vis  and  Sir  Timo's  lady  relish  the 
news  ?"  inquired  John,  expecting  something  ridiculous. 

"  Not  at  all,"  rejoined  Mr.  Haughton ;  **  the  former 
sobbed,  and  said  she  had  only  married  him  for  his  bravery 
and  red  coat,  and  the  lady  exclaimed  against  the  destruction 
of  his  budding  honors." 

"  IIow  did  it  terminate?"  asked  Mrs.  Wilson. 

"  Why,  it  seems  while  they  were  quarrelling  about  it,  the 


492  PRECAUTION. 

War-Office  cut  the  mat*'"-  short  by  accepting  his  rtsignatiori. 
I  suppose  the  command,=.i -in-chief  had  learned  his  character; 
but  the  matter  was  warmly  contested  :  tliey  even  drove  th 
captain  to  a  declaration  of  his  principles." 

'•  And  what  kind  of  ones  might  they  have  been,  Haugh 
ton  ?"  said  Sir  Edward,  drily. 

"  Republican." 

"  Republican  !"  exclaimed  two  or  three  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  liberty  and  equality,  he  contended,  w^ere  his  idols, 
and  he  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  tight  against  Bona- 
parte." 

"  A  somewhat  singular  conclusion,"  said  Mr.  Benfield, 
musing.  "I  remember  when  I  sat  in  the  House,  there  was 
a  party  who  were  fond  of  the  cry  of  this  said  liberty;  but 
when  they  got  the  power  they  did  not  seem  to  me  to  suffer 
peoj)le  to  go  more  at  large  than  they  went  before;  but  I 
suppose  they  were  diffident  of  telling  the  world  their  minds 
after  they  were  put  in  such  responsible  stations,  for  fear  of 
the  effect  of  example." 

"  Most  people  like  liberty  as  servants  but  not  as  masters, 
uncle,"  cried  John,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Captain  Jarvis,  it  seems,  liked  it  as  a  preservative  against 
danger,"  continued  Mr.  Haughton;  "to  avoid  ridicule  in  his 
new  neighborhood,  he  has  consented  to  his  father's  vvishes, 
and  turned  merchant  in  the  city  again." 

"  Where  I  sincerely  hope  he  will  remain,"  cried  John,  who 
since  the  accident  of  the  arbor,  could  not  tolerate  the  unfor 
lunate  youth. 

"  Amen  !"  said  Emily,  in  an  under  tone,  heard  only  by  hei 
brother. 

"  But  Sir  Timo — what  has  become  of  SirTimo — the  good, 
honest  merchant  ?"  asked  John. 

"He  has  dropt  the  title,  insists  on  being  called  plain  Mr 


PRECAUTIOX.  493 

Jarvis,  and  lives  entirely  in  Cornwall,  His  hopeful  son-in 
law  has  gone  with  his  regiment  to  Flanders  ;  and  Lady  Eger- 
ton,  being  unable  to  live  without  her  father's  assistance,  is 
obliged  to  hide  her  consequence  in  the  west  also." 

The  subject  became  now  disagreeable  to  Lady  Moseley, 
and  it  was  changed.  Such  conversations  made  Jane  more 
eserved  and  dissatisfied  than  ever.  She  had  no  one  respect- 
able excuse  to  offer  for  her  partiality  to  her  former  lover,  and 
when  her  conscience  told  her  the  mortifying  fact,  was  apt  to 
think  that  others  remembered  it  too. 

The  letters  from  the  continent  now  teemed  with  prepara- 
tions Jpr  the  approaching  contest ;  and  the  apprehensions  of 
our  heroine  and  her  friends  increased,  in  proportion  to  the 
nearness  of  the  struggle,  on  which  hung  not  only  the  fates 
of  thousands  of  individuals,  but  of  adverse  princes  and 
mighty  empires.  In  this  confusion  of  interests,  and  of  jar- 
ring of  passions,  there  were  offered  prayers  almost  hourly 
for  the  safety  of  Pendennyss,  which  were  as  pur«  and  ardeni 
as  the  love  which  prompted  them. 


494  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  XLYIII. 

Napoleon  had  commenced  those  daring  an  5  rapid  move- 
ments, which  for  a  time  threw  the  peace  of  the  world  into 
the  scale  of  fortune,  and  which  nothing  but  the  interposition 
of  a  ruling  Providence  could  avert  from  their  threatened  suc- 
cess. As  the  - — -th  dragoons  wheeled  into  a  field  ^ihead}' 
deluged  with  Enghsh  blood,  on  the  heights  of  Quatre  "Bras, 
the  eye  of  its  gallant  colonel  saw  a  friendly  battalion  falling 
beneath  the  sabres  of  the  enemy's  cuirassiers.  The  woi'd  was 
passed,  the  column  opens,  the  sounds  of  the  quivering  bugle 
were  heard  for  a  moment  above  the  roar  of  the  cannon  and 
the  shouts  of  the  combatants  ;  the  charge,  sw^eeping  like  a 
whirlwind,  fell  heavily  on  those  treacherous  Frenchmen,  who 
to-day  had  sworn  fidelity  to  Louis,  and  to-morrow  intended 
lifting  their  hands  in  allegiance  to  his  rival. 

'*  Spare  my  life  in  mercy,"  cried  an  officer,  already  dread- 
fully wounded,  who  stood  shrinking  from  the  impending  blow 
of  an  enraofed  Frenchman.  An  Eno;lish  drao;oon  dashed  at 
the  cuirassier,  and  with  one  blow  severed  his  arm  from  his 
body. 

"  Thank  God,"  sighed  the  wounded  officer,  sinking  beneath 
the  horse's  feet. 

His  rescuer  threw  himself  from  the  saddle,  and  raising  the 
fallen  man  inquired  into  his  wounds.  It  was  Pendennyss, 
and  it  was  Egerton.  The  wounded  man  groaned  aloud,  as  he 
saw  the  face  of  him  who  had  averted  the  fatal  blow  ;  but  it 
was  not  the  hour  for  oxplnnations  or  confessions,  oiIkt  liuin 


PRKCAUTION, 


41) 


tho3e  with  which  the  dying  soldiers  endeavored  to  make  tlieir 
tardy  peace  with  their  God. 

Sir  Henry  was  given  in  charge  to  two  shglitly  wounded 
British  soldiers,  and  the  earl  remounted  :  the  scattered  troops 
were  rallied  at  the  sound  of  the  trumpet,  and  again  and 
again,  led  by  their  dauntless  colonel,  were  seen  in  the  thickest 
of  the  fray,  with  sabres  drenched  in  blood,  and  voices  hoarse 
with  the  shouts  of  victory. 

The  period  between  the  battles  of  Quatre  Bias  and  Wa- 
terloo was  a  trying  one  to  tlie  discipline  and  courage  of  tlie 
British  army.  The  discomfited  Prussians  on  their  flank  had 
been  routed  and  compelled  to  retire,  and  in  their  front  was 
an  enem)%  brave,  skilful,  and  victorious,  led  by  the  greatest 
captain  of  the  age.  Tlie  prudent  commander  of  the  English 
forces  fell  back  with'  dignity  and  reluctance  to  the  field  of 
Waterloo;  here  the  mighty  struggle  was  to  terminate,  and 
the  eye  of  every  experienced  soldier  looked  on  those  eminen- 
ces as  on  the  future  graves  for  thousands. 

During  this  solemn  interval  of  comparative  inactivity  the 
mind  of  Pendennyss  dwelt  on  the  aflfection,  the  innocence,  the 
beauty  and  worth  of  his  Emily,  until  the  curdling  blood,  as 
he  thought  on  her  lot  should  his  life  be  the  purchase  of  the 
coming  victory,  warned  him  to  quit  the  gloomy  subject,  for 
the  consolations  of  that  religion  which  only  could  yield  him 
the  solace  his  wounded  feelings  required.  In  his  former  cam- 
j)aigns  the  earl  had  been  sensible  of  the  mighty  changes  of 
death,  and  had  ever  kept  in  view  the  "prejtarations  necessary 
to  meet  it  with  hope  and  joy;  but  the  world  clung  around 
him  now,  in  the  best  aflections  of  his  nature,  and  it  was  only 
as  he  could  pictui-e  the  happy  reunion  with  his  Emily  in  a 
future  life,  that  he  could  look  on  a  separation  in  this  witii' 
out  despair. 

The  vicinity  of  the  enemy  admitted  of  no   rchixation   in 


4,/6  PRECAUTION. 

the  strictest  watchfulness  in  the  British  lines:  and  the 
comfortless  night  of  the  seventeenth  was  passed  by  the  earl, 
and  his  Lieutenant  Colonel,  George  Denbigh,  on  the  same 
cloak,  and  under  the  open  canopy  of  Heaven. 

As  the  opening  cannon  of  the  enemy  gave  the  signal  for 
the  commencing  conflict,  Pendennyss  mounted  his  charger 
with  a  last  thought  ou  his  distant  wife.  With  a  mighty 
struggle  he  tore  her  as  it  were  from  his  bosom,  and  gave 
the  remainder  of  the  day  to  duty 

Who  has  not  heard  of  the  events  of  that  fearful  hour,  on 
which  the  fate  of  Europe  hung  as  it  were  suspended  in  the 
scale  ?  On  one  side  supported  by  the  eftbrts  of  desperate 
resolution,  guided  by  the  most  consummate  art ;  and  on  the 
other  defended  by  a  discipline  and  enduring  courage  almost 
without  a  parallel. 

The  indefatigable  Blucher  arrived,  and  the  star  of 
Napoleon  sank. 

Pendennyss  threw  him  self  from  his  horse,  on  the  night  of  the 
eighteenth  of  June,  as  he  gave  way  by  orders,  in  the  pursuit,  to 
the  fresher  battalions  of  the  Prussians,  with  the  languor  that 
follows  unusual  excitement,  and  mental  thanksgivings  that 
this  bloody  work  wa'i  at  length  ended.  The  image  of 
his  Emily  again  broke  over  the  sterner  feelings  of  the  battle, 
like  the  first  glimmerings  of  light  which  succeed  the  awful 
darkness  of  the  eclipse  of  the  sun  :  and  he  again  breathed 
freely,  in  the  consciousness  of  the  hjippiness  which  would 
await  his  speedy  return. 

•   "  I  am  sent  for  the  colonel  of  the th  dragoons,"  said 

a  courier  in  broken  English  to  a  soldier,  near  where  the  ear 
iay  on  the  ground,  waiting  the  preparations  of  hie  attendants 
"have  I  found  the  right  regiment,  my  friend?' 

"To  be  sure  you  have,"  answered  the  man,  without 
'.coking  up  from  his  toil  on  his  favorite  niiimal,  "  you  might 


PRECAUTION.  497 

liave  bracked  us  by  the  dead  Frenchmen,  1  should  think 
So  you  want  my  lord,  my  lad,  do  you  ?  do  we  move  again 
to-night  ?"  suspending  his  labor  for  a  moment  in  expectation 
of  a  reply. 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge,"  rejoined  the  courier ;  "  my 
message  is  to  your  colonel,  from  a  dying  man.  Will  you 
point  out  his  station  ?" 

The  soldier  complied,  the  message  was  soon  delivered, 
and  Pendennyss  prepared  to  obey  its  summons  immediately. 
Preceded  by  the  messenger  as  a  guide,  and  followed  by 
Harmer,  the  earl  retraced  his  steps  over  that  ground  on 
which  he  had  but  a  few  hours  before  been  engaged  in  the 
jdeadly  strife  of  man  to  man,  hand  to  hand 

How  different  is  the  contemplation  of  a  field  of  battle 
during  and  after  the  conflict !  The  excitement,  suspended 
success,  shouts,  uproar,  and  confusion  of  the  former,  prevent 
any  contemplation  of  the  nicer  parts  of  this  confused  mass 
of  movements,  charges,  and  retreats  ;  or  if  a  brilliant  advance 
is  made,  a  masterly  retreat  eftected,  the  imagination  is 
chained  by  the  splendor  and  glory  of  the  act,  without 
resting  for  a  moment  on  the  sacrifice  of  individual  happiness 
with  which  it  is  purchased.  A  battle-ground  from  which 
the  whirlwind  of  the  combat  has  passed,  presents  a  dif- 
ferent sight ;  it  offers  the  very  consummation  of  human 
misery. 

There  may  occasionally  be  an  individual,  who  fiom 
tation,  distempered  mind,  or  the  encouragement  of  chimeri- 
cal ideas  of  glory,  quits  the  theatre  of  life  with  at  least  the 
appearance  of  pleasure  in  his  triumphs.  If  such  there  be  in 
reality,  if  this  rapture  of  departing  glory  be  anything  more 
than  the  deception  of  a  distempered  excitement,  the  subject 
of  its  exhibition  is  to  be  greatly  pitied.  To  the  Christian, 
dying  in  peace  with  both  God  and  man,  can  it  alone  be  ceded 


498  PRECAUTION. 

in  the  eye  of  reason,  to  pc  ur  out  his  existenc  3  with  a  smile  on 
his  quivering  lip. 

And  the  warrior,  who  falls  in  the  very  arms  of  victory, 
after  passing  a  life  devoted  to  the  world  ;  even,  if  he  sees 
kingdoms  hang  suspended  on  his  success,  may  smile  indeed, 
may  utter  sentiments  full  of  loyalty  and  zeal,  may  be  the  ad- 
miration of  the  world,  and  what  is  his  reward  ?  a  deathless 
name,  and  an  existence  of  misery,  which  knows  no  termination. 

Christianity  alone  can  make  us  good  soldiers  in  any  cause, 
for  he  who  knows  how  to  live,  is  always  the  least  afraid  to  die. 

Pendennyss  and  his  companions  pushed  their  way  over 
the  ground  occupied  before  the  battle  by  the  enemy ;  descend- 
ed into  and  through  that  little  valley,  in  which  yet  lay,  in 
undistinguished  confusion,  masses  of  the  dead  and  dying  of 
either  side  ;  and  again  over  the  ridge,  on  which  could  be 
marked  the  situation  of  those  gallant  squares  which  had  so 
long  resisted  the  efforts  of  the  horse  and  artillery  by  the 
groups  of  bodies,  fallen  where  they  had  bravely  stood,  until 
even  the  callous  Harmer  sickened  with  the  sight  of  a  waste 
of  life  that  he  had  but  a  few  hours  before  exultingly  con- 
tributed to  increase. 

Appeals  to  their  feelings  as  they  rode  through  the  field 
had  been  frequent,  and  their  progress  was  much  retarded  by 
attempts  to  contribute  to  the  ease  of  a  wounded  or  a  dying 
man  ;  but  as  the  courier  constantly  urged  speed,  as  the 
only  means  of  securing  the  object  of  their  ride,  these  hal"- 
were  reluctantly  abandoned. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  before  they  reached  the  farm-house, 
where,  in  the  midst  of  hundreds  of  his  countrymen,  lay  the 
former  lover  of  Jane. 

As  tlie  subject  of  his  confession  must  be  anticipated  by 
the  reac^r,  we  will  give  a  short  relation  of  his  life,  and  of 
those  acts  which  more  materially  affect  our  history. 


PRECAUTION.  499 

Henry  Egerton  had  been  turned  early  jn  the  world,  likft 
hundreds  of  his  countrymen,  without  any  principle  to 
counteract  the  arts  of  infidelity,  or  resist  the  temptations  of 
life.  His  father  held  a  situation  under  government,  and 
was  devoted  to  his  rise  in  the  diplomatic  line.  His  mothei 
was  a  woman  of  fashion,  who  lived  for  effect  and  idle  com- 
petition with  her  sisters  in  weakness  and  folly.  All  he  learnt 
in  his  father's  house  was  selfishness,  from  the  example  of 
one,  and  a  love  of  high  life  and  its  extravagance  from  the 
Other, 

He  entered  the  army  young,  and  from  choice.  The 
splendor  and  reputation  of  the  service ,  caught  his  fancy ; 
and,  by  pride  and  constitution,  he  was  indifferent  to  personal 
danger.  Yet  he  loved  London  and  its  amusements  better 
than  glory  ;  and  the  money  of  his  uncle,  Sir  Edgar,  whose  heir 
he  was  reputed  to  be,  raised  him  to  the  rank  of  lieutenant 
colonel,  without  his  spending  an  hour  in  the  field. 

Egerton  had  some  abilities,  and  a  good  deal  of  ardor  of 
temperament,  by  nature.  The  former,  from  indulgence  and 
example,  degenerated  into  acquiring  the  art  to  please  in 
mixed  society  ;  and  the  latter,  from  want  of  employment, 
expended  itself  at  the  card  table. 

The  association  between  the  vices  is  intimate.  There 
really  appears  to  be  a  kind  of  modesty  in  sin  that  makes  it 
ashamed  of  good  company.  If  we  are  unable  to  reconcile  a 
favorite  propensity  to  our  principles,  we  are  apt  to  abandon 
the  unpleasant  restraint  on  our  actions,  rather  than  admit 
the  incongruous  mixture.  Freed  entirely  from  the  fetters 
of  our  morals,  what  is  there  that  our  vices  will  not  prompt 
us  to  commit?  Egerton,  like  thousands  of  others,  went  on 
from  step  to  step,  until  he  found  himself  in  the  world,  free 
to  follow  all  his  inclinations,  so  he  violated  none  of  tb* 
decencies  of  life. 


500  PRECAUTION 

When  in  .Spain,  in  his  only  campaign,  he  was  accidentally, 
as  has  been  mentioned,  thrown  in  the  way  of  the  Donna 
Julia,  and  brought  her  off  the  ground  under  the  influence 
of  natural  sympathy  and  national  feeling ;  a  kind  of  merit 
that  makes  vice  only  more  dangerous,  by  making  it  some- 
times amiable.  He  had  not  seen  his  dependant  long  before 
her  beauty,  situation,  and  his  passions  decided  him  to  effect 
her  ruin. 

This  was  an  occupation  that  his  figure,  mannei*s,  and 
propensities  had  made  him  an  adept  in,  and  nothing  was 
further  from  his  thoughts  than  the  commission  of  any  other 
than  the  ciime  that,  according  to  his  code,  a  gentleman 
might  be  guilty  of  with  impunity. 

It  is,  however,  the  misfortune  of  sin,  that  from  being  our 
slave  it  becomes  a  tyrant ;  and  Egerton  attempted  what  in 
other  countries,  and  where  the  laws  ruled^,  might  have  cost 
him  his  life. 

The  conjecture  of  Pendennyss  was  true.  He  saw  the  face 
of  the  officer  who  interposed  between  him  and  his  villanous 
attempt,  but  was  hid  himself  from  view.  He  aimed  not  at 
his  life,  but  at  his  own  escape.  Happily  his  first  shot  suc- 
ceeded, for  the  earl  would  have  been  sacrificed  to  preserve 
the  character  of  a  man  of  honor ;  though  no  one  was  more 
regardless  of  the  estimation  he  was  held  in  by  the  vii'tuous 
than  Colonel  Egerton. 

In  pursuance  of  his  plans  on  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  the  colonel 
had  sedulously  avoided  admitting  any  of  his  companions  into 
the  secret  of  his  having  a  female  in  his  care. 

When  he   left  the  army  to  return  home,   he  remained 
until  a  movement  of  the   troops  to   a  distant  part  of   th 
country   enabled   him   to  effect  his  own   purposes,  without 
incurring  tjieir  ridicule  ;  and  when  he  found  himself  obliged 
to  abandon  his  vehicle  for  a  refuge  in  the  woods,  the  f^ar  of 


PRECAUTION.  5()rl 

detection  made  him  alter  his  course;  and  under  the  pretends 
of  wishing  to  be  in  a  battle  about  to  be  fought,  he  secretly- 
rejoined  the  ai*my,  and  the  gallantry  of  Colonel  Egerton  was 
mentioned  in  the  next  despatches. 

Sir  Herbert  Nicholson  commanded  the  advanced  guard, 
at  which  the  earl  arrived  with  the  Donna  Julia ;  and  like 
6very  other  brave  tnan  (unless  guilty  himself)  was  indignant 
at  the  villany  of  the  fugitive.  The  confusion  and  enormities 
daily  practised  in  the  theatre  of  the  war  prevented  any  close 
inquiries  into  the  subject,  and  circumstances  had  so  enveloped 
Egerton  in  mystery,  that  nothing  but  an  interview  with  the 
lady  herself  was  likely  to  expose  him. 

With  Sir  Herbert  Nicholson  h^  had  been  in  habits  of 
intimacy,  and  on  that  gentleman's  alluding  in  a  conversation 
in  the  barracks  at  F— —  to  the  lady  brought  into  his  quar- 
ters before  Lisbon,  he  accidentally  omitted  mentioning  the 
name  of  her  rescuer.  Egerton  had  never  before  heard  the 
transaction  spoken  of,  and  as  he  had  of  coui-se  never  men- 
tioned the  subject  himself,  was  ignorant  \^ho  had  interfered 
between  him  and  his  views ;  also  of  the  fate  of  Donna  Julia ; 
indeed,  he  thought  it  prbbable  that  it  had  not  much  improved 
by  a  change  of  guardians. 

In  coming  into  Northamptonshire  he  had  several  views ; 
he  wanted  a  temporary  retreat  from  his  creditors.  Jarvis 
had  an  infant  fondness  for  play,  without  an  adequate  skill, 
and  the  money  of  the  young  ladies,  in  his  necessities,  was 
\)ecoming  of  importance  ;  but  the  daughters  of  Sir  Edward 
Moseley  were  of  a  description  more  suited  to  his  taste,  and 
their  portions  were  as  ample  as  the  others.  He  had  become 
in  some  degree  attached  to  Jane  ;  and  as  her  imprudent 
parents,  satisfied  with  his  possessing  the  exterior  and  requi- 
site recommendations  of  a  gentleman,  admitted  his  visits 
freely,  he  determiAed  to  make  her  his  wife. 


502  PRECAUTION. 

When  he  met  Denbigh  the  first  time,  he  saw  that  chance 
had  thrown  him  in  tlie  vay  of  a  man  who  might  hold  his 
character  in  his  power.  He  had  never  seen  him  aii  Penden 
nyss,  and,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  ignorant  of  the  nam< 
of  Julia's  friend :  he  now  learnt  for  the  first  time  that  it  was 
Denbigh.  Uneasy  at  he  knew  not  what,  fearful  of  some 
exposure  he  knew  not  how,  when  Sir  Herbert  alluded  to 
the  occurrence,  with  a  view  to  rebut  the  charge,  if  Denbigt 
should  choose  to  make  one,  and  with  the  near-sightednesf 
of  guilt,  he  pretended  to  know  the  occurrence,  and  under  th( 
promise  of  secresy,  mentioned  that  the  name  of  the  officef 
was  Denbigh.  He  had  noticed  Denbigh  avoiding  Sir  Her- 
bert at  the  ball  ;  and  judging  others  from  himself,  thought  i< 
was  a  wish  to  avoid  any  allusions  to  the  lady  he  had  broughl 
into  the  other's  quarters  that  induced  the  measure  ;  for  he 
was  in  hopes  that  if  Denbigh  was  not  as  guilty  as  himself, 
he  was  sufficiently  so  to  wish  to  keep  the  transaction  from 
the  eyes  of  Emily.  He  was,  however,  prepared  for  an 
explosion  or  an  alliance  with  him,  when  the  sudden  depar- 
ture of  Sir  Herbert  removed  the  dansfer  of  a  collision. 
Believing  at  last  that  they  were  to  be  brothers-in-law,  and 
mistaking  the  earl  for  his  cousin,  whose  name  he  bore, 
Egerton  became  reconciled  to  the  association ;  while  Pen- 
dennyss,  having  in  his  absence  heard,  on  inquiring,  some  of 
the  vices  of  the  colonel,  was  debating  with  himself  whethet 
he  should  expose  them  to  Sir  Edward  or  not. 

It  was  in  their  occasional  interchange  of  civilities  that 
Pendennyss  placed  his  pocket-book  upon  a  table,  while  he 
exhibited  the  plants  to  the  colonel :  the  figure  of.  Emily 
passing  the  window  drew  him  from  the  room,  and  Egerton 
having  ended  his  examination,  observing  the  book,  put  i 
in  his  own  pocket,  to  return  it  to  its  owner  when  thej  uex 
met. 


ruF.CACTiox.  503 

The  situation,  name,  and  history  of  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  were 
never  mentioned  by  the  Moseleys  in  public ;  but  Jane,  in 
the  confidence  of  her  affections,  had  told  her  lover  who  the 
inmate  of  the  cottao-e  was.  The  idea  of  her  being  kept 
there  l>y  Denbigh  immediately  occurred  to  him,  and  although 
he  was  surpri^;ed  at  tlie  audacity  of  the  thing,  he  was  deter- 
mined to  profit  by  the  occasion. 

To  pay  this  visit,  he  stayed  away  from  the  excursion  on 
the  water,  as  Pendennyss  had  done  to  avoid  his  friend,  Lord 
Henry  Stapleton.  An  excuse  of  business,  which  served  for 
his  apology,  kept  the  colonel  fiom  seeing  Denbigh  to  return 
the  book,  until  after  his  visit  to  the  cottage.  His  rhapsody 
of  love,  and  offers  to  desert  his  intended  wife,  were  nothing 
but  the  common- place  talk  of  his  purposes  ;  and  his  pre- 
sumption in  alluding  to  his  situation  with  Miss  Moseley, 
proceeded  from  his  impressions  as  to  Julia's  real  character. 
In  the  struggle  for  the  bell,  the  pocket-book  of  Denbigh 
accidentally  fell  from  his  coat,  and  the  retreat  of  the  colonel 
was  too  precipitate  to  enable  him  to  recover  it. 

Mrs.  FitztT-erald  was  too  much  alarmed  to  distinguish 
nicely,  and  Egerton  proceeded  to  the  ball-room  with  the 
indifference  of  a  hardened  offender.  When  the  arrival  of 
Miss  Jarvis,  to  whom  he  had  committed  himself,  prompted 
him  to  a'  speedy  declaration,  and  the  unlucky  conversation 
of  Mr,  Holt  brought  about  a  probable  detection  of  his  gaming 
■pvoi)ensities,  the  colonel  determined  to  get  rid  of  his  awkward 
s  ! nation  and  his  debts  by  a  coup-de-main.  He  accordingly 
sloped  with  Miss  Jarvis. 

What  portion  of  the  foregoing  narrative  made  the  dying 
confession  of  Egerton  to  the  man  he  had  so  latelv  discov(?red 
to  be  the  Earl  of  Pendennyss,  the  reader  can  easily  imagine. 


/>04  PRECAUTION. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

The  harvest  had  been  gathered,  and  the  beautiful  vale 
of  Pendennyss  were  shooting  forth  a  second  crop  of  verdure. 
The  husbandman  was  turning  his  prudent  forethought  to  the 
promises  of  the  coming  year,  while  the  castle  itself  exhibited 
to  the  gaze  of  the  wondering  peasant  a  sight  of  cheerful- 
ness and  animation  which  had  not  been  seen  in  it  since  the 
days  of  the  good  duke.  Its  numerous  windows  were  opened 
to  the  light  of  the  sun,  its  halls  teemed  with  the  faces  of  its 
happy  inmates.  Servants  in  various  liveries  were  seen  glid- 
ing through  its  magnificent  apartments  and  multiplied  pas- 
sages. Horses,  grooms,  and  carriages,  with  varied  costumes 
and  different  armoiial  bearings,  crowded  its  spacious  stables 
and  offices.  Everything  spoke  society,  splendor,  and  activity 
without ;  everything  denoted  order,  propriety,  and  happiness 
within. 

In  a  long  range  of  spacious  apartments  were  grouped  in 
the  pursuit  of  their  morning  employments,  or  in  arranging 
their  duties  and  pleasures  of  the  day,  the  guests  arid  owners 
of  the  princely  abode. 

In  one  room  was  John  Moseley,  carefully  examining  th« 
properties  of  some  flints  which  were  submitted  to  his  exami- 
nation by  his  attending  servant;  while  Grace,  sitting  at  his 
side,  playfully  snatches  the  stones  from  his  hand,  as  she 
cries  half  reproachfully,  half  tenderly — 

"  You  must  not  devote  yourself  to  your  gun  so  incessantly, 
Moseley  ;  it  is  cruel  to  kill  inoffensive  birds  for  your  amuse- 
ment only  " 


PRECAUTION.  505 

"  Ask  Emily's  cook,  and  Mr.  Haughtcn's  appetite,"  said 
John,  coolly  extending  his  hand  towards  her  for  the  flint — 
"  whether  no  one  is  gratified  but  myself.  I  tell  you,  Grace, 
I  seldom  fire  in  vain." 

"  That  only  makes  the  matter  worse  ;  the  slaughter  you 
commit  is  dreadful." 

"  Oh !"  cried  John,  with  a  laugh,  "  the  ci-devant  Captain 
Jarvis  is  a  sportsman  to  your  mind.  He  would  shoot  a  month 
without  moving  a  feather ;  he  was  a  great  friend  to,"  throw- 
ing an  arch  look  to  his  solitary  sister,  who  sat  on  a  sofa  at  a 
distance  perusing  a  book,  "  Jane's  feathered  songsters." 

"  But  now,  Mosely,"  said  Grace,  yielding  the  flints,  but 
gently  retaining  the  hand  that  took  them,  "  Pendenyss  and 
Chatterton  intend  driving  their  wives,  like  good  husbands,  to 
see  the  beautiful  waterfall  in  the  mountains ;  and  what  am  I 
to  do  this  long  tedious  morning  ?" 

John  stole  an  enquiring  glance,  to  see  if  his  wife  was  very 
anxious  to  join  the  party — cast  one  look  of  regret  on  a  beau- 
tiful agate  that,  he  had  selected,  and  inquired — 

"  Do  you  wish  to  go  very  much,  Mrs.  Mosely  ?'* 

"  Indeed — indeed  I  do,"  said  the  other,  eagerly,  "  if— ** 

"If  what?" 

"  You  will  drive  me  ?"  continued  she,  with  a  cheek  slightly 
tinged  with  color. 

"  Well,  then,"  answered  John,  with  deliberation,  and 
regarding  his  wife  with  aflfection  "  I  will  go  on  one  condi- 
tion." 

"  Name  it !"  cried  Grace,  with  still  increasing  color. 
.  "  That  you  will  not  expose  your  health  again  in  going  to 
the  church  on  a  Sunday,  if  it  rains." 

"  The  carriage  is  so  close,  Mosely,"  answered  Grace,  with 
a  paler  cheek  than  before,  and  eyes  fixed  on  the  carpet,  "  it 
is  impossible  I  can  take  cold :  you  see  the  earl,  and  countess, 
22 


606  PRECAUTION. 

and  aunt  Wilson  never  naiss  public  worship,  when  possibly 
within  their  power." 

"  The  earl  goes  with  his  wife ;  but  what  becomes  of  poor 
me  at  such  times  !"  said  John,  taking  her  hand  and  pressing 
it  kindly.  "  I  like  to  hear  a  good  sermon,  but  not  in  bad 
weather.  You  must  consent  to  oblige  me,  who  only  live  in 
your  presence." 
1      Grace  smiled  faintly,  as  John,  pursuing  the  point,  said — 

"  What  do  you  say  to  my  condition  ?" 

"  Well  then^  if  you  wish,"  replied  Grace,  without  the  look 
of  gaiety  her  hopes  had  first  inspired,  "  I  will  not  go  if  it 
rain." 

John  ordered  his  phaeton,  and  his  wife  went  to  her  room 
to  prepare  for  the  trip,  and  to  regret  her  own  resolution. 

In  the  recess  of  a  window,  in  which  bloomed  a  profusion 
of  exotics,  stood  the  figure  of  Lady  Marian  Denbigh,  playing 
with  a  half-blown  rose  of  the  richest  colors ;  and  before  her, 
leaning  against  the  angle  of  the  wall,  stood  her  kinsman  the 
Duke  of  Derwent. 

"You  heard  the  plan  at  the  breakfast  table,"  said  his 
Grace,  "  to  visit  the  little  falls  in  the  hills.  But  I  suppose 
you  have  seen  them  too  often  to  undergo  the  fatigue  1" 

"  Oh  no !  I  love  that  ride  dearly,  and  should  wish  to  ac- 
company the  countess  in  her  first  visit  to  it.  I  had  half  a 
mind  to  ask  George  to  take  me  in  his  phaeton." 

"  My  curricle  would  be  honored  with  the  presence  of  Lady 
^  Marian  Denbigh,"  cried  the  duke  with  animation,  "  if  she 
would  accept  me  for  her  knight  on  the  occasion." 

Marian  bowed  an  assent,  in  evident  satisfaction,  as  thp 
duke  proceeded — 

"  But  if  you  take  me  as  your  knight  I  should  wear  your 
ladyship's  colors ;"  and  he  held  out  his  hand  towards  the 
budding  rose.  Lady  Marian  hesitated  a  moment — ^looked  out 


PRECAUTION.  507 

at  the  prospect — up  at  the  wall — turned,  and  wondered 
where  her  brother  was ;  and  still  finding  the  hand  of  the 
duke  extended,  while  his  eye  rested  on  her  in  admiration,  she 
gave  him  the  boon  with  a  cheek  that  vied  with  the  richest 
tints  of  the  flower.  They  separated  to  prepare,  and  it  was 
on  their  return  from  the  falls  that  the  duke  seemed  uncom- 
monly gay  and  amusing,  and  the  lady  silent  with  her  tongue, 
though  her  eyes  danced  in  every  direction  but  towards  her 
cousin. 

"  Really,  my  dear  Lady  Mosely,"  said  the  dowager,  as, 
seated  by  the  side  of  her  companion,  her  eyes  roved  over  the 
magnificence  within,  and  widely  extended  domains  without-^ 
"  Emily  is  well  established  indeed — better  even  than  my 
Grace." 

"  Grace  has  an  affectionate  husband,"  replied  the  other, 
gravely,  "  and  one  that  I  hope  will  make  her  happy." 

"  Oh  !  no  doubt  happy  !"  said  Lady  Chatterton,  hastily : 
"  but  they  say  Emily  has  a  jointure  of  twelve  thousand  a 
year — by-the-by,"  she  added,  in  a  low  tone,  though  no  one 
was  near  enough  to  hear  what  she  said,  "  could  not  the  earl 
have  settled  Lumley  Castle  on  her  instead  of  the  deanery  V* 

"  Upon  my  word  I  never  think  of  such  gloomy  subjects  as 
provisions  for  widowhood,"  cried  Lady  Mosely  :  "  you  have 
been  in  Annerdale-House — is  it  not  a  princely  mansion  V^ 

"  Princely,  indeed,"  rejoined  the  dowager,  sighing :  "  don't 
the  earl  intend  increasing  the  rents  of  this  estate  as  the  leases 
fall  in  1     I  am  told  they  are  very  low  now !" 

"  I  believe  not,"  said  the  other.  "  He  has  enough,  and  is 
willing  others  should  prosper.  But  there  is  Clara,  with  her 
little  boy — ^is  he  not  a  lovely  child  1"  cried  the  grandmother, 
rising  to  take  the  infant  in  her  arms. 

*'  Oh !  excessively  beautiful  I"  said  the  dowager,  looking 
the  other  way,  and  observing  Catharine  making  a  movement 


508    N  PJIECAUTION. 

towards  Lord  Henry  Stapleton,  she  called  to  her,  "  Lad) 
Herriefield — come  this  way,  my  dear — I  wish  to  spealj 
to  you." 

Kate  obeyed  with  a  sullen  pout  of  her  pretty  lip,  and  en- 
tered into  some  idle  discussion  about  a  cap,  though  her  eyes 
wandered  round  the  rooms  in  listless  vacancy. 

The  dowager  had  the  <5urse  of  bad  impressions  in  youth  to 
contend  with,  and  labored  infinitely  harder  now  to  make  her 
daughter  act  right,  than  formerly  she  had  ever  done  to  make 
her  act  wrong. 

"  Here !  uncle  Benfield,"  cried  Emily,  with  a  face  glowing 
with  health  and  animation,  as  she  approached  his  seat  with 
a  glass  in  her  hands.  "  Here  is  the  negus  you  wished  ;  I 
have  made  it  myself,  and  you  will  praise  it  of  course." 

"  Oh !  my  dear  Lady  Pendennyss,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
rising  politely  from  his  seat  to  receive  the  beverage :  "  you 
are  putting  yourself  to  a  great  deal  of  trouble  for  an  old 
bachelor  like  me  ;  too  much  indeed,  too  much.", 

"  Old  bachelors  are  sometimes  more  esteemed  than  young 
one,"  cried  the  earl  gaily,  joining  them  in  time  to  hear  this 
speech.  "  Here  is  my  friend,  Mr.  Peter  Johnson ;  who 
knows  when  we  may  dance  at  his  wedding  1" 

*'My  lord,  and  my  lady,  and  my  honored  master,"  said 

Peter  gravely,  in  reply,  bowing  respectfully  where  he  stood, 

waiting  to  take  his  master's  glass — "  I  am  past  the  age  to 

think  of  a  wife  :  I  am  seventy-three  coming  next  'lammas, 

1  counting  by  the  old  style." 

^  "What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  your  thre^  hundred  a 
year,"  said  Emily  with  a  smile,  "  unless  you  bestow  it  on 
some  good  woman,  for  making  the  evening  of  your  life  com- 
fortable V 

,  "  My  i^dy — hem — my  lady,"  said  the  steward,  blushing: 
^^-I  had  a  little  thought,  with  your  kind  ladyship's  consent,  a 


PRECAUTION.  50D 

I  have  no  relations,  chick  or  child  in  the  world,  what  to  do 
with  it." 

"  I  should  be  happy  to  hear  your  plan,"  said  the  countess, 
observing  that  the  steward  was  anxious  to  communicate  some- 
thing. 

"  W^iy,  my  lady,  if  my  lord  and  my  honored  master's 
agreeable,  I  did  think  of  making  another  codicil  to  master's 
will  in  order  to  dispose  of  it." 

"  Your  master's  will,"  said  the  earl  laughing ;  "  why  not 
to  your  own,  good  Peter  1" 

"  My  honored  lord,"  said  the  steward,  with  great  humility, 
**  it  don't  become  a  poor  serving-man  like  me  to  make  a  will." 

"  But  how  will  you  prove  iti"  said  the  earl,  kindly,  willing 
to  convince  him  of  his  error ;  "  you  must  be  both  dead  to 
prove  it." 

"  Our  wills,"  said  Peter,  gulping  his  words,  "  will  be 
proved  on  the  same  day." 

His  master  looked  round  at  him  with  great  affection,  and 
both  the  earl  and  Emily  were  too  much  struck  to  say  any- 
thing. Peter  had,  however,  the  subject  too  much  at  heart 
to  abandon  it,  just  as  he  had  broken  the  ice.  He  anxiously 
wished  for  the  countess's  consent  to  the  scheme,  for  he  would 
not  affront  her,  even  after  he  was  dead. 

"  My  lady — Miss  Emmy,"  said  Johnson,  eagerly, "  my  plan 
is,  if  my  honored  master's  agreeable — to  make  a  codicil,  and 
give  my  mite  to  a  little — Lady  Emily  Denbigh." 

"  Oh !  Peter,  you  and  uncle  Benfield  are  both  too  good," 
cried  Emily,  laughing  and  blushing,  as  she  hastened  to  Clara 
and  her  mother. 

"Thank  }ou,  thank  you,"  cried  the  delighted  earl,  follow- 
ing his  wife  with  his  eyes,  and  shaking  the  steward  cordially 
by  the  hand ;  "  and,  if  no  better  expedient  be  adopted  by  us, 
you  have  full  permission  to  do  as  you  please  with  your  mpney. 


510  PHECAUTION. 

"Peter,"  said  his  master  to  him  in  a  low  tone,  "}ou 
should  never  speak  of  such  things  prematurely  ;  now  1 
remember  when  the  Earl  of  Pendennyss,  my  nephew,  was 
first  presented  to  me,  I  was  struck  with  the  delicacy  and  pro- 
priety of  his  demeanor,  and  the  Lady  Pendennyss,  my  niece, 
too ;  you  never  see  anything  forward,  or — Ah !  Emmy,  dear," 
!  said  the  old  man,  tenderly  interrupting  himself,  "  you  are  too 
good  to  remember  your  old  uncle,"  taking  one  of  the  fine 
peaches  she  handed  him  from  a  plate. 

"  My  lord,"  said  Mr.  Haughton  to  the  earl,  "  Mrs. .  ves  and 
myself  have  had  a  contest  about  the  comforts  of  matrimony  ; 
she  insists  she  may  be  quite  as  happy  at  Bolton  Parsonage 
as  in  this  noble  castle,  and  with  this  rich  prospect  in  view." 

"I  hope,"  said  Francis,  "  you  are  not  teaching  my  wife  to 
be  discontented  with  her  humble  lot — if  so,  both  hers  and 
your  visit  will  be  an  unhappy  one." 

"  It  would  be  no  easy  task,  if  our  good  friend  intended 
any  such  thing  by  his  j*»3ts,"  said  Clara,  smiling.  "  I  know 
my  true  interests,  I  trust,  too  well,  to  wish  to  change  my  for- 
tune." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Pendennyss ;  "  it  is  wonderful  how 
little  our  happiness  depends  on  a  temporal  condition.  When 
here,  or  at  Lumley  Castle,  surrounded  by  my  tenantry,  there 
are,  I  confess,  moments  of  weakness,  in  w^hich  the  loss  of 
my  wealth  or  rank  would  be  missed  greatly ;  but  when  on  ser- 
vice, subjected  to  great  privations,  and  surrounded  by  men  su- 
perior to  me  in  military  rank,  who  say  unto  me — go,  and  I  go 
— come,  and  I  come — I  find  my  enjoyments  intrinsically 
the  same." 

"That,"  said  Francis,  "  may  be  owing  to  your  Lordship's 
tempered  feelings,  which  have  taught  you  to  look  beyond 
this  world  for  pleasures  and  consolation." 

"It  has,  doubtless,  an  effect,"  said  the  earl,  "  but  there  is 


.^^ 


PRECAUTION.  511 

no  truth  of  which  I  am  more  fully  persuaded,  than  that  our 
happiness  here  does  not  depend  upon  our  lot  in  life,  so  we 
are  not  suffering  for  necessaries — even  changes  bring  less 
real  misery  than  they  are  supposed  to  do." 

"Doubtless,"  cried  Mr.  Haughton,  "under  the  circum- 
stances, I  would  not  wish  to  change  even  with  your  lordship 
— unless,  indeed,"  he  continued,  with  a  smile  and  bow  tc 
the  countess,  "  it  were  the  temptation  of  your  lovely  wife." 

"You  are  quite  polite,"  said  Emily  laughing,  "but  I  have 
no  desire  to  deprive  Mrs.  Haughton  of  a  companion  she  has 
made  out  so  well  with  these  twenty  years  past." 

"  Thirty,  my  lady,  if  you  please." 

"  And  thirty  more,  I  hope,"  continued  Emily,  as  a  servant 
announced  the  several  carriages  at  the  door.  The  younger 
part  of  the  company  now  hastened  to  their  different  engage- 
ments, and  Chatterton  handed  Harriet ;  John,  Grace ;  and 
Pendennyss,  Emily,  into  their  respective  carriages;  the  duke 
and  Lady  Marian  following,  but  at  some  little  distance  from 
the  rest  of  the  party. 

As  the  earl  drove  from  the  door,  the  countess  looked  up 
to  a  window,  at  which  were  standing  her  aunt  and  Doctor 
Ives.  She  kissed  her  hand  to  them,  with  a  face,  in  which 
glowed  the  mingled  expression  of  innocence,  love,  and  joy. 

Before  leaving  the  Park,  the  party  passed  Sir  Edward ; 
with  bis  wife  leaning  on  one  arm  and  Jane  on  the  other,  pur- 
suing their  daily  walk.  The  baronet  followed  the  carriages 
with  his  eyes,  and  exchanged  looks  of  the  fondest  love  with 
his  children,  as  they  drove  slowly  and  respectfully  by  him ; 
and  if  the,  glance  which  followed  on  Jane,  did  not  speak 
equal  pleasure,  it  surely  denoted  its  proper  proportion  of 
paternal  love. 

"You  have  much  reason  to  congratulate  yourself  on  the 
happy  termination  of  your  labors  "  said  the  doctor,  with  a 


512  PRECAUTION. 

smile,  to  the  widow ;  "  Emily  is  placed,  so  far  as  human  fore- 
sight  can  judge,  in  the  happiest  of  all  stations  a  female  can 
be  in :  she  is  the  pious  wife  of  a  pious  husband,  beloved,  and 
deserving  of  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  drawing  baclc  from  following 
the  phaeton  with  her  eyes,  "  they  are  as  happy  as  this  world 
will  admit,  and,  what  is  better,  they  are  well  prepared  to 
meet  any  reverse  of  fortune  which  may  occur,  as  well  as  to 
discharge  the  duties  on  which  they  have  entered.  I  do  not 
think,"  continued  she,  musing,  "  that  Pendennyss  can  ever 
doubt  the  affections  of  such  a  woman  as  Emily." 

"  I  should  think  not,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  but  what  can 
excite  such  a  thought  in  your  breast,  and  one  so  much  to  the 
prejudice  of  George  1" 

"The  only  unpleasant  thing  I  have  ever  observed  in 
him,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson  gravely,  "is  the  suspicion  which 
induced  him  to  adopt  the  disguise  in  which  he  entered  our 
family." 

"  He  did  not  adopt  it,  madam — chance  and  circumstan- 
ces drew  it  around  him  accidentally ;  and  when  you  consider 
the  peculiar  state  of  his  mind  from  the  discovery  of  his 
mother's  misconduct — his  own  great  wealth  and  rank — it  is 
not  so  surprising  that  he  should  yield  to  a  deception,  rather 
harmless  than  injurious." 

"  Dr.  Ives,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  is  not  wont  to  defend 
deceit." 

"  Nor  do  I  now,  madam,"  replied  the  doctor  with  a 
smile :  "  I  acknowledge  the  offence  of  George,  myself,  wife, 
and  son.  I  remonstrated  at  the  time  upon  principle ;  I  said 
the  end  would  not  justify  the  means ;  that  a  departure  from 
ordinary  rules  of  propriety  was  at  all  times  dangerous,  and 
seldom  practised  with  impunity." 

"  An4  you  foiled  to  convince  your  hearers,"  cried  Mis. 


PRECAUTION.  513 

Wilson,  gaily;  "a  novelty  in  ypur  case,  my  good  rec- 
tor." 

"  I  thanlc  you  for  the  compliment,"  said  the  doctor ;  '*  1 
did  convince  them  as  to  the  truth  of  the  principle,  but  the 
earl  contended  that  his  case  might  make  an  innocent  excep- 
tion. He  had  the  vanity  to  think,  I  believe,  that  by  con- 
cealing his  real  name,  he  injured  himself  more  than  any  one 
else,  and  got  rid  of  the  charge  in  some  such  way.  He  is 
however,  thoroughly  convinced  of  the  truth  of  the  position, 
by  practice ;  his  sufferings,  growing  out  of  the  mistake  of 
his  real  character,  and  which  could  not  have  happened  had 
he  appeared  in  proper  person,  having  been  greater  than  he 
is  ready  to  acknowledge." 

"  If  they  study  the  fate  of  the  Donna  Julia,  and  his  own 
weakness,"  said  the  widow,  "  they  will  have  a  salutary 
moral  always  at  hand,  to  teach  them  the  importance  of  two 
•cardinal  virtues  at  least — obedience  and  truth." 

"Julia  has  suffered  much,"  replied  the  doctor;  "and 
although  she  has  returned  to  her  father,  the  consequences  of 
her  imprudence  are  likely  to  continue.  When  once  the  bonds 
of  mutual  confidence  and  respect  are  broken,  they  may  be 
partially  restored,  it  is  true,  but  never  with  a  warmth 
and  reliance  such  as  existed  previously.  To  return,  however, 
to  yourself,  do  you  not  feel  a  sensation  of  delight  at  the 
prosperous  end  of  your  exertions  in  behalf  of  Emily  1" 

"  It  is  certainly  pleasant  to  think  we  have  discharged  our 
duties,  and  the  task  is  much  easier  than  we  are  apt  to 
ouppo^e,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson  ;  "  it  is  only  to  commence  the 
foundation,  sc  that  it  will  be  able  to  support  the  superstruc- 
ture. I  have  endeavored  to  make  Emily  a  Christian.  I 
have  endeavored  to  form  such  a  taste  and  principles 
in  her,  that  she  would  not  be  apt  to  admire  an  improper 
Buitor  and  I  have  labored  to  prepare  her  to  discharge  her 
22* 


514  PRECAUTION. 

continued  duties  through  life,  in  such  a  manner  and  with 
such  a  faith,  as  under  the  providence  of  God  will  result  in 
happiness  far  exceeding  anything  she  now  enjoys.  In  all 
these,  by  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  I  have  Gucceeded,  and 
had  occasion  offered,  I  would  have  assisted  her  inexperience 
through  the  more  delicate  decisions  of  her  sex,  though  in  no 
instance  would  I  attempt  to  control  them." 

"  You  are  right,  my  dear  madam,"  said  the  doctor,  taking 
her  kindly  by  the  hand,  "  and  had  I  a  daughter,  I  would 
follow  a  similar  course.  Give  her  delicacy,  religion,  and  a 
proper  taste,  aided  by  the  unseen  influence  of  a  prudent 
parent's  care,  and  the  chances  of  a  woman  for  happiness 
would  be  much  greater  than  they  are ;  and  I  am  entirely 
of  your  opinion — *  That  prevention  is  at  all  times  better 
than  cure.' " 


TBI  WMD» 


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